'/ 


BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 


BYRON: 
THE    LAST    PHASE 

BY  RICHARD    EDGCUMBE 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

153-157  FIFTH  AVENUE 
1909 


UJMIVERSITY  OF  (  ALIf  ORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA 


TO 

MRS.   CHARLES   CALL, 

DAUGHTER    OF    EDWARD    TRELAWNY,    BYRON'S 
COMPANION    IN    GREECE, 

I    DEDICATE   THIS    WORK    AS    A    MARK    OF    AFFECTION 
AND    ESTEEM 


PREFACE 

This  book  has  no  pretensions  ;  it  is  merely  a  record 
of  events  and  impressions  which  nearly  forty  years  of 
close  study  have  accumulated.  There  seems  to  be  a 
general  agreement  that  the  closing  scenes  of  Byron's 
short  life  have  not  been  adequately  depicted  by  his 
biographers.  From  the  time  of  Byron's  departure 
from  Ravenna,  in  the  autumn  of  1821,  his  disposition 
and  conduct  underwent  a  transformation  so  complete 
that  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  recognize,  in  the 
genial,  unselfish  personality  who  played  so  effective  a 
role  at  Missolonghi,  the  gloomy  misanthrope  of  181 1, 
or  the  reckless  libertine  of  the  following  decade. 

The  conduct  of  Byron  in  Greece  seems  to  have 
come  as  a  revelation  to  his  contemporaries,  and  his 
direction  of  complex  affairs,  in  peculiarly  trying 
circumstances,  certainly  deserves  more  attention  than 
it  has  received.  Records  made  on  the  spot  by  men 
whose  works  are  now,  for  the  most  part,  out  of  print 
have  greatly  simplified  my  task,  and  I  hope  that  the 
following  pages  may  be  acceptable  to  those  who  have 
not  had  an  opportunity  of  studying  that  picturesque 
phase  of  Byron's  career.  I  should  have  much  pre- 
ferred to  preserve  silence  on  the  subject  of  his  separa- 
tion from  his  wife.  Unfortunately,  the  late  Lord 
Lovelace,  in  giving  his  sanction  to  the  baseless  and 


viii  PREFACE 

forgotten  slanders  of  a  bygone  age,  has  recently 
assailed  the  memory  of  Byron's  half-sister,  and  has 
set  a  mark  of  infamy  upon  her  which  cannot  be  erased 
without  referring  to  matters  which  ought  never  to 
have  been  mentioned. 

In  order  to  traverse  statements  made  in  '  Astarte,'  it 
was  necessary  to  reveal  an  incident  which,  during 
Byron's  lifetime,  was  known  only  by  those  who 
were  pledged  to  silence.  With  fuller  knowledge 
of  things  hidden  from  Byron's  contemporaries,  we  may 
realize  the  cruelty  of  those  futile  persecutions  to 
which  Mrs.  Leigh  was  subjected  by  Lady  Byron  and 
her  advisers,  under  the  impression  that  they  could 
extract  the  confession  of  a  crime  which  existed  only 
in  their  prurient  imaginations.  Mrs.  Leigh,  in  one  of 
her  letters  to  Hobhouse,  says,  *  I  have  made  it  a  rule  to 
be  silent— that  is  to  say.  As  Long  As  I  Can.'  Although 
the  strain  must  have  been  almost  insupportable  she 
died  with  her  secret  unrevealed,  and  the  mystery 
which  Byron  declared  '  too  simple  to  be  easily  found 
out '  has  hitherto  remained  unsolved.  I  regret  being 
unable  more  precisely  to  indicate  the  source  of  in- 
formation embodied  in  the  concluding  portions  of  this 
work.  The  reader  may  test  the  value  of  my  state- 
ments by  the  light  of  citations  which  seem  amply  to 
confirm  them.  At  all  events,  I  claim  to  have  shown 
by  analogy  that  Lord  Lovelace's  accusation  against 
Mrs.  Leigh  is  groundless,  and  therefore  his  contention, 
that  Byron's  memoirs  were  destroyed  because  they 
implicated  Mrs.  Leigh,  is  absolutely  untenable.  Those 
memoirs  were  destroyed,  as  we  now  know,  because 
both  Hobhouse  and  Mrs.  Leigh  feared  possible  revela- 
tions concerning  another  person,  whose  feelings  and 
interests  formed  the  paramount  consideration  of  those 


PREFACE  ix 

who  were  parties  to  the  deed.  Lord  John  Russell, 
who  had  read  the  memoirs,  stated  in  1869  that 
Mrs.  Leigh  was  not  implicated  in  them,  a  fact  which 
proves  that  they  were  not  burned  for  the  purpose  of 
shielding  her. 

Lord  Lovelace  tells  us  that  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who 
had  heard  full  particulars  from  Thomas  Moore, 
remarked, '  It  is  a  pity,  but  there  tvas  a  reason — premai 
nox  alta.'  Facts  which  they  hoped  deep  oblivion 
would  hide  have  come  to  the  surface  at  last,  and  I 
deeply  regret  that  circumstances  should  have  imposed 
upon  me  a  duty  which  is  repugnant  both  to  my 
inclination  and  instincts.  After  all  is  said,  the 
blame  rightly  belongs  to  Lady  Byron's  grandson, 
who,  heedless  of  consequences,  stirred  the  depths  of 
a  muddy  pool.  He  tells  us,  in  'Astarte,'  (i)  that  the 
papers  concerning  Byron's  marriage  have  been  care- 
fully preserved ;  (2)  that  the}''  form  a  complete  record 
of  all  the  causes  of  separation  ;  and  (3)  that  they  contain 
full  information  on  every  paii  of  the  subject. 

In  those  circumstances  it  is  strange  that,  with  the 
whole  of  Lady  Byron's  papers  before  him.  Lord 
Lovelace  should  have  published  only  documents  of 
secondary  importance  which  do  not  prove  his  case. 
After  saying,  '  It  should  be  distinctly  understood  that 
no  misfortunes,  blunders,  or  malpractices,  have  swept 
away  Lady  Byron's  papers,  or  those  belonging  to 
the  executors  of  Lord  Byron,'  he  leaves  the  essential 
records  to  the  imagination  of  his  readers,  and  feeds 
us  on  hints  and  suggestions  which  are  not  borne 
out  by  extracts  provided  as  samples  of  the  rest.  It 
is  impossible  not  to  suspect  that  Lord  Lovelace, 
in  arranging  the  papers  committed  to  his  charge, 
discarded   some   that   would   have   told   in  favour   of 


X  PREFACE 

Mrs.   Leigh,   and    selected    others  which    colourably 
supported  his  peculiar  views. 

In  matters  of  this  kind  everything  depends  upon 
the  qualifications  of  the  accuser  and  the  reliability 
of  the  witness.  Lord  Lovelace  in  a  dual  capacity 
certainly  evinced  an  active  imagination. 

As  an   example,  'Astarte,'  which  was  designed  to 
blast  the  fair  fame  of  Mrs.  Leigh,  was  used  by  him  to 
insult  the  memory  of  the  late   Mr.  Murray  (who  he 
admits  showed  him  many  acts  of  kindness),  and  to 
repudiate    promises    which     he    undoubtedly    made, 
to  edit  his  grandfather's  works.     Rambling  statements 
are  made  with  design  to  discredit  both  Mr.  Gifford, 
the    editor  of  the   Quarterly,   and   Mr.    Murray,    the 
friend   of    Lord   Byron.     Even    personal   defects   are 
dragged  in  to  prejudice  the  reader  and  embitter  the 
venom  of  irrelevant  abuse.     It  was  as  if  Plutarch,  in 
order  to   enhance   the  glory  of  Antony,  had  named 
'  the  Last  of  the  Romans '  Cassius  the  Short-sighted. 
Fortunately,    written    proofs    were   in    existence    to 
controvert  Lord  Lovelace's  assertions — proofs  which 
were    used    with    crushing    effect  —  otherwise    Mr. 
Murray   might   have    found    himself    in    a    position 
quite   as   helpless   as   that   of  poor  Mrs.  Leigh   her- 
self.    So   unscrupulous   a   use  of  documents  in  that 
case  suggests   the  possibility  that   a  similar  process 
may  have  been  adopted  in  reference  to  Mrs.  Leigh. 
It  is   indeed   unfortunate   that    Lady  Byron's  papers 
cannot  be  inspected  by  some  unprejudiced  person,  for 
we  have  nothing  at  present  beyond  Lord  Lovelace's 
vague  assertions.      Were    those   papers   thoroughly 
sifted   they  would   surely  acquit  Mrs.   Leigh    of  the 
crime  that  has  been  so  cruelly   laid   to   her   charge. 
Meanwhile    I   venture   to   think   that    the    following 


PREFACE  xi 

pages  help  to  clear  the  air  of  much  of  that  mystery 
which  surrounds  the  liv^es  of  Lord  Byron  and  his 
sister. 

In  conclusion,  I  desire  to  record  my  personal 
obligation  to  the  latest  edition  of  the  '  Poems,'  edited 
by  Mr.  Ernest  Hartley  Coleridge ;  and  of  the  *  Letters 
and  Journals,'  edited  by  Mr.  Rowland  Prothero, 
volumes  which  together  form  the  most  comprehen- 
sive and  scholarly  record  of  Byron's  life  and  poetry 

that  has  ever  been  issued, 

R.  E. 

August,  1909. 


BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 


PART  I 

* .  .  .  Le  cose  ti  fien  conte, 
Quando  noi  fermerem  li  nostri  passi 
Sulla  trista  riviera  d'  Acheronle.' 

Inferno,  Canto  III.,  76-78. 


CHAPTER  I 

'  A  LARGE  disagreeable  city,  almost  without  inhabi- 
tants' — such  was  the  poet  Shelley's  description  of 
Pisa  in  1821.  The  Arno  was  yellow  and  muddy,  the 
streets  were  empty,  and  there  was  altogether  an  air 
of  poverty  and  wretchedness  in  the  town.  The  con- 
victs, who  were  very  numerous,  worked  in  the  streets 
in  gangs,  cleaning  and  sweeping  them.  They  were 
dressed  in  red,  and  were  chained  together  by  the 
leg  in  pairs.  All  day  long  one  heard  the  slow  clank- 
ing of  their  chains,  and  the  rumbling  of  the  carts 
they  were  forced  to  drag  from  place  to  place  like  so 
many  beasts  of  burden.  A  spectator  could  not  but 
be  struck  by  the  appearance  of  helpless  misery 
stamped  on  their  yellow  cheeks  and  emaciated 
forms. 

On  the  Lung'  Arno  Mediceo,  east  of  the  Ponte  di 
Mezzo,  stands  the  Palazzo  Lanfranchi,  which  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  built  by  Michael  Angelo.  Here, 
on  November  2,  1821,  Lord  Byron  arrived,  with  his 
servants,  his  horses,  his  monkey,  bulldog,  mastiff, 
cats,  peafowl,  hens,  and  other  live  stock,  which  he 
had  brought  with  him  from  Ravenna.  In  another 
quarter  of  the  city  resided  Count  Rugiero  Gamba, 
his   son    Pietro,  and   his   daughter   Countess   Teresa 

;?  I — 2 


4  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Guiccioli.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Arno,  nearly 
opposite  to  Byron's  residence,  lived  the  poet  Shelley, 
with   his  wife  and   their  friends   Edward   and  Jane 

Williams. 

In  the  middle  of  November,  Captain  Thomas 
Medwin,  a  relative  of  Shelley's,  arrived  at  Pisa ;  and 
on  January  14,  1822,  came  Edward  John  Trelawny, 
who  was  destined  to  play  so  important  a  part  in  the 
last  scenes  of  the  lives  of  both  Shelley  and  Byron. 

Byron  was  at  this  time  in  his  thirty-third  year. 
Medwin  thus  describes  his  personal  appearance  : 

'I  saw  a  man  of  about  five  feet  seven  or  eight, 
apparently  forty  years  of  age.  As  was  said  of  Milton, 
Lord  Byron  barely  escaped  being  short  and  thick. 
His  face  was  fine,  and  the  lower  part  symmetrically 
moulded ;  for  the  lips  and  chin  had  that  curved  and 
definite  outline  that  distinguishes  Grecian  beauty. 
His  forehead  was  high,  and  his  temples  broad  ;  and  he 
had  a  paleness  in  his  complexion  almost  to  wanness. 
His  hair,  thin  and  fine,  had  almost  become  grey,  and 
waved  in  natural  and  graceful  curls  over  his  head, 
that  was  assimilating  itself  fast  to  the  "bald  first 
Caesar's."  He  allowed  it  to  grow  longer  behind  than 
it  is  accustomed  to  be  worn,  and  at  that  time  had 
mustachios  which  were  not  sufficiently  dark  to  be 
becoming.       In    criticizing    his    features,    it    might, 

Eerhaps,  be  said  that  his  eyes  were  placed  too  near 
is  nose,  and  that  one  was  rather  smaller  than  the 
other.  They  were  of  a  greyish -brown,  but  of  a 
peculiar  clearness,  and  when  animated  possessed  a 
fire  which  seemed  to  look  through  and  penetrate  the 
thoughts  of  others,  while  they  marked  the  inspirations 
of  his  own.  His  teeth  were  small,  regular,  and  white. 
I  expected  to  discover  that  he  had  a  club-foot ;  but  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  have  distinguished  one 
from  the  other,  either  in  size  or  in  form.  On  the 
whole,  his  figure  was  manly,  and  his  countenance 
handsome  and  prepossessing,  and  very  expressive. 
The  familiar  ease  of  his  conversation  soon  made  me 
perfectly  at  home  in  his  society.' 


BYRON'S  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE    5 

Trelawny's  description  is  as  follows  : 

'  In  external  appearance  Byron  realized  that  ideal 
standard  with  which  imagination  adorns  genius.  He 
was  in  the  prime  of  life,  thirty-four ;  of  middle  height, 
five  feet  eight  and  a  half  inches ;  regular  features, 
without  a  stain  or  furrow  on  his  pallid  skin ;  his 
shoulders  broad,  chest  open,  body  and  limbs  finely 
proportioned.  His  small  highly  -  finished  head  and 
curly  hair  had  an  airy  and  graceful  appearance  from 
the  massiveness  and  length  of  his  throat ;  you  saw  his 
genius  in  his  eyes  and  lips,' 

Trelawny  could  find  no  peculiarity  in  his  dress, 
which  was  adapted  to  the  climate.     Byron  wore : 

'  a  tartan  jacket  braided — he  said  it  was  the  Gordon 
pattern,  and  that  his  mother  was  of  that  race — a  blue 
velvet  cap  with  a  gold  band,  and  very  loose  nankin 
trousers,  strapped  down  so  as  to  cover  his  feet.  His 
throat  was  not  bare,  as  represented  in  drawings.' 

Lady  Blessington,  who  first  saw  Byron  in  April  of 
the  following  year,  thus  describes  him  : 

'  The  impression  of  the  first  few  minutes  dis- 
appointed me,  as  I  had,  both  from  the  portraits  and 
descriptions  given,  conceived  a  diff'erent  idea  of  him. 
I  had  fancied  him  taller,  with  a  more  dignified  and 
commanding  air;  and  I  looked  in  vain  for  the  hero- 
looking  sort  of  person,  with  whom  I  had  so  long 
identified  him  in  imagination.  His  appearance  is, 
however,  highly  prepossessing.  His  head  is  finely 
shaped,  and  his  forehead  open,  high,  and  noble  ;  his 
eyes  are  grey  and  full  of  expression,  but  one  is  visibly 
larger  than  the  other.  The  nose  is  large  and  well 
shaped,  but,  from  being  a  little  too  thick,  it  looks  better 
in  profile  than  in  front-face ;  his  mouth  is  the  most 
remarkable  feature  in  his  face,  the  upper  lip  of  Grecian 
shortness,  and  the  corners  descending;  the  lips  full, 
and  finely  cut. 

*  In  speaking,  he  shows  his  teeth  very  much,  and 
they  are  white  and  even ;  but  I  observed  that  even  in 
his  smile — and  he  smiles  frequently — there  is  some- 
thing of  a  scornful  expression  in  his  mouth,  that  is 


6  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

evidently  natural,  and  not,  as  many  suppose,  affected. 
This  particularly  struck  me.  His  chin  is  large  and 
well  shaped,  and  finishes  well  the  oval  of  his  face. 
He  is  extremely  thin— indeed,  so  much  so  that  his 
figure  has  almost  a  boyish  air.  His  face  is  peculiarly 
pale,  but  not  the  paleness  of  ill-health,  as  its  character 
is  that  of  fairness,  the  fairness  of  a  dark-haired  person  ; 
and  his  hair  (which  is  getting  rapidly  grey)  is  of  a 
very  dark  brown,  and  curls  naturally  :  he  uses  a  good 
deal  of  oil  in  it,  which  makes  it  look  still  darker.  His 
countenance  is  full  of  expression,  and  changes  with 
the  subject  of  conversation  ;  it  gains  on  the  beholder 
the  more  it  is  seen,  and  leaves  an  agreeable  impres- 
sion. .  .  .  His  whole  appearance  is  remarkably  gentle- 
manlike, and  he  owes  nothing  of  this  to  his  toilet,  as 
his  coat  appears  to  have  been  many  years  made,  is 
much  too  large — and  all  his  garments  convey  the  idea 
of  having  been  purchased  ready-made,  so  ill  do  they 
fit  him.  There  is  3.  gaucherie  in  his  movements,  which 
evidently  proceeds  from  the  perpetual  consciousness 
of  his  lameness,  that  appears  to  haunt  him  ;  for  he 
tries  to  conceal  his  foot  when  seated,  and  when  walk- 
ing has  a  nervous  rapidity  in  his  manner.  He  is  very 
slightly  lame,  and  the  deformity  of  his  foot  is  so  little 
remarkable,  that  I  am  not  now  aware  which  foot  it  is. 
'  His  voice  and  accent  are  peculiarly  agreeable,  but 
effeminate — clear,  harmonious,  and  so  distinct,  that 
though  his  general  tone  in  speaking  is  rather  low 
than  high,  not  a  word  is  lost.  His  manners  are  as 
unlike  my  preconceived  notions  of  them  as  is  his 
appearance.  I  had  expected  to  find  him  a  dignified, 
cold,  reserved,  and  haughty  person,  but  nothing  can 
be  more  different;  for  were  I  to  point  out  the 
prominent  defect  of  Lord  Byron,  I  should  say  it  was 
flippancy,  and  a  total  want  of  that  natural  self-posses- 
sion and  dignity,  which  ought  to  characterize  a  man  of 
birth  and  education.' 

Medwin  tells  us,  in  his  'Journal  of  the  Conversa- 
tions of  Lord  Byron,'  that  Byron's  voice  had  a  flexi- 
bility, a  variety  in  its  tones,  a  power  and  pathos, 
beyond  any  he  ever  heard ;  and  his  countenance  was 
capable  of  expressing  the  tenderest  as  well   as  the 


BYRON'S  LAMENESS  7 

strongest  emotions,  which  would  perhaps  have  made 
him  the  finest  actor  in  the  world. 

The  Countess  Guiccioli,  who  had  a  longer  acquaint- 
ance with  Byron  than  any  of  those  who  have  attempted 
to  portray  him,  says  : 

*  Lord  Byron's  eyes,  though  of  a  light  grey,  were 
capable  of  all  extremes  of  expression,  from  the  most 
joyous  hilarity  to  the  deepest  sadness,  from  the  very 
sunshine  of  benevolence  to  the  most  concentrated 
scorn  or  rage.  But  it  was  in  the  mouth  and  chin  that 
the  great  beauty  as  well  as  expression  of  his  fine 
countenance  lay.  His  head  was  remarkably  small,  so 
much  so  as  to  be  rather  out  of  proportion  to  his  face. 
The  forehead,  though  a  little  too  narrow,  was  high, 
and  appeared  more  so  from  his  having  his  hair  (to 
preserve  it,  as  he  said)  shaved  over  the  temples. 
Still,  the  glossy  dark  brown  curls,  clustering  over  his 
head,  gave  the  finish  to  its  beauty.  When  to  this  is 
added  that  his  nose,  though  handsomely,  was  rather 
thickly  shaped,  that  his  teeth  were  white  and  regular, 
and  his  complexion  colourless,  as  good  an  idea,  perhaps, 
as  it  is  in  the  power  of  mere  words  to  convey  may  be 
conceived  of  his  features.  In  height  he  was  five  feet 
eight  inches  and  a  half.  His  hands  were  very  white, 
and,  according  to  his  own  notions  of  the  size  of  hands 
as  indicating  birth,  aristocratically  small.  .  .  .  No 
defect  existed  in  the  formation  of  his  limbs  ;  his  slight 
infirmity  was  nothing  but  the  result  of  weakness  of 
one  of  his  ankles.  His  habit  of  ever  being  on  horse- 
back had  brought  on  the  emaciation  of  his  legs,  as 
evinced  by  the  post-mortem  examination ;  the  best 
proof  of  this  is  the  testimony  of  William  Swift,  boot- 
maker at  Southwell,  who  had  the  honour  of  working 
for  Lord  Byron  from  1805  to  1807.' 

It  appears  that  Mrs.  Wildman  (the  widow  of  the 
Colonel  who  had  bought  Newstead  from  Byron)  not 
long  before  her  death  presented  to  the  Naturalist 
Society  of  Nottingham  several  objects  which  had 
belonged   to   Lord    Byron,   and    amongst  others   his 


8  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

boot  and  shoe  trees.  These  trees  are  about  nine 
inches  long,  narrow,  and  generally  of  a  symmetrical 
form.  They  were  accompanied  by  the  following 
statement : 

'  William  Swift,  bootmaker  at  Southwell,  Notting- 
hamshire, having  had  the  honour  of  working  for  Lord 
Byron  when  residing  at  Southwell  from  1805  to  1807, 
asserts  that  these  were  the  trees  upon  which  his 
lordship's  boots  and  shoes  were  made,  and  that  the 
last  pair  delivered  was  on  the  loth  May,  1807.  He 
moreover  affirms  that  his  lordship  had  not  a  club 
foot,  as  has  been  said,  but  that  both  his  feet  were 
equally  well  formed,  one,  however,  being  an  inch  and 
a  half  shorter  than  the  other.*  The  defect  was  not  in 
the  foot,  but  in  the  ankle,  which,  being  weak,  caused 
the  foot  to  turn  out  too  much.  To  remedy  this,  his 
lordship  wore  a  very  light  and  thin  boot,  which  was 
tightly  laced  just  under  the  sole,  and,  when  a  boy,  he 
was  made  to  wear  a  piece  of  iron  with  a  joint  at  the 
ankle,  which  passed  behind  the  leg  and  was  tied  behind 
the  shoe.  The  calf  of  this  leg  was  weaker  than  the 
other,  and  it  was  the  left  leg. 

'(Signed)    William  Swift.' 

'This,  then,'  says  Countess  Guiccioli,  *is  the  extent 
of  the  defect  of  which  so  much  has  been  said,  and 
which  has  been  called  a  deformity.  As  to  its  being 
visible,  all  those  who  knew  him  assert  that  it  was  so 
little  evident,  that  it  was  even  impossible  to  discover 
in  which  of  the  legs  or  feet  the  fault  existed.' 

Byron's  alleged  sensitiveness  on  the  subject  of  his 
lameness  seems  to  have  been  exaggerated. 

'When  he  did  show  it,'  continues  Countess  Guic- 
cioli, '  which  was  never  but  to  a  very  modest 
extent,  it  was  only  because,  physically  speaking,  he 
suffered  from  it.  Under  the  sole  of  the  weak  foot  he 
at  times  experienced  a  painful   sensation,  especially 

*  Medwin,  in  his  book  '  Tlie  Angler  in  Wales,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  211,  says  : 
The  right  foot,  as  everyone  knows,  being  twisted  inwards,  so  as  to 
amount  to  what  is  generally  known  as  a  club-foot.' 


PORTRAITS  OF  BYRON  9 

after  long  walks.  Once,  at  Genoa,  Byron  walked 
down  the  hill  from  Albaro  to  the  seashore  with  me 
by  a  rugged  and  rough  path.  When  we  had  reached 
the  shore  he  was  very  well  and  lively.  But  it  was  an 
exceedingly  hot  day,  and  the  return  home  fatigued  him 
greatly.  When  home,  I  told  him  that  I  thought  he 
looked  ill.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "I  suffer  greatly  from  my 
foot ;  it  can  hardly  be  conceived  how  much  I  suffer  at 
times  from  that  pain  ;"  and  he  continued  to  speak  to 
me  about  this  defect  with  great  simplicity  and  in- 
difference.' 

We  have  been  particular  to  set  before  the  reader  the 
impression  which  Byron's  personal  appearance  made 
upon  those  who  saw  him  at  this  time,  because  none  of 
the  busts  or  portraits  seem  to  convey  anything  like  an 
accurate  semblance  of  this  extraordinary  personality. 
Had  the  reader  seen  Byron  in  his  various  moods,  he 
would  doubtless  have  exclaimed,  with  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  that  '  no  picture  is  like  him.' 

The  portrait  by  Saunders  represents  Byron  with 
thick  lips,  whereas  'his  lips  were  harmoniously 
perfect,'  says  Countess  Guiccioli.  Holmes  almost 
gives  him  a  large  instead  of  his  well-proportioned 
head.  In  Phillips's  picture  the  expression  is  one  ot 
haughtiness  and  affected  dignity,  which  Countess 
Guiccioli  assures  us  was  never  visible  to  those  who 
saw  him  in  life.  The  worst  portrait  of  Lord  Byron, 
according  to  Countess  Guiccioli,  and  which  surpasses 
all  others  in  ugliness,  was  done  by  Mr.  West,  an 
American,  '  an  excellent  man,  but  a  very  bad  painter.' 
This  portrait,  which  some  of  Byron's  American 
admirers  requested  to  have  taken,  and  which  Byron 
consented  to  sit  for,  was  begun  at  Montenero,  near 
Leghorn.  Byron  seems  only  to  have  sat  two  or  three 
times  for  it,  and  it  was  finished  from  memory. 
Countess  Guiccioli  describes  it  as  *  a  frightful  carica- 


10      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

tare,  which  his  family  or  friends  ought  to  destroy.' 
As  regards  busts,  she  says  : 

'Thorwaldsen  alone  has,  in  his  marble  bust  of 
Byron,  been  able  to  blend  the  regular  beauty  of  his 
features  with  the  sublime  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance.' 

On  January  22,  1822,  Byron's  mother-in-law,  Lady 
Noel,  died  at  the  age  of  seventy. 

'  I  am  distressed  for  poor  Lady  Byron,'  said  the 
poet  to  Medwin  :  'she  must  be  in  great  affliction,  for 
she  adored  her  mother!  The  world  will  think  that 
I  am  pleased  at  this  event,  but  they  are  much  mistaken. 
I  never  wished  for  an  accession  of  fortune  ;  I  have 
enough  without  the  Wentworth  property.  I  have 
written  a  letter  of  condolence  to  Lady  Byron — you 
may  suppose  in  the  kindest  terms.  If  we  are  not 
reconciled,  it  is  not  my  fault.' 

There  is  no  trace  of  this  letter,  and  it  is  ignored  by 
Lord  Lovelace  in  'Astarte.'  It  may  be  well  here  to 
point  out  how  erroneous  was  the  belief  that  Miss 
Milbanke  was  an  heiress.  Byron  on  his  marriage 
settled  ;^6o,ooo  on  his  wife,  and  Miss  Milbanke  was  to 
have  brought  ;^2o,ooo  into  settlement  ;  but  the  money 
was  not  paid.  Sir  Ralph  Milbanke's  property  was 
at  that  time  heavily  encumbered.  Miss  Milbanke  had 
some  expectations  through  her  mother  and  her  uncle, 
Lord  Wentworth ;  but  those  prospects  were  not  men- 
tioned in  the  settlements.  Both  Lord  Wentworth  and 
Sir  Ralph  Milbanke  were  free  to  leave  their  money 
as  they  chose.  When  Lord  Wentworth  died,  in  April 
181 5,  he  left  his  property  to  Lady  Milbanke  for  her 
life,  and  at  her  death  to  her  daughter,  Lady  Byron. 
Therefore,  at  Lady  Noel's  death  Byron  inherited  the 
whole  property  by  right  of  his  wife.  But  one  of  the 
terms  of  the  separation  provided  that  this  property 


SOCIETY  OF  THE  SHELLEYS  ii 

should  be  divided  by  arbitrators.  Lord  Dacre  was 
arbitrator  for  Lady  Byron,  and  Sir  F.  Burdett  for 
Byron.  Under  this  arrangement  half  the  income  was 
allotted  to  the  wife  and  half  to  the  husband.  In  the 
London  Gazette  dated  'Whitehall,  March  2,  1822,'  royal 
licence  is  given  to  Lord  Byron  and  his  wife  that 
they  may  *  take  and  use  the  surname  of  Noel  only, 
and  also  bear  the  arms  of  Noel  only  ;  and  that  the 
said  George  Gordon,  Baron  Byron,  may  subscribe  the 
said  surname  of  Noel  before  all  titles  of  honour.' 
Henceforward  the  poet  signed  all  his  letters  either 
with  the  initials  N.  B.  or  with  '  Noel  Byron  '  in  full. 

Byron  was  at  this  time  in  excellent  health  and 
spirits,  and  the  society  of  the  Shelleys  made  life 
unusually  pleasant  to  him,  Ravenna,  with  its  gloomy 
forebodings,  its  limited  social  intercourse,  to  say 
nothing  of  its  proscriptions — for  nearly  all  Byron's 
friends  had  been  exiled — was  a  thing  of  the  past. 
The  last  phase  had  dawned,  and  Byron  was  about  to 
show  another  side  of  his  character.  Medwin  tells  us 
that  Byron's  disposition  was  eminently  sociable,  how- 
ever great  the  pains  which  he  took  to  hide  it  from  the 
world.  On  Wednesdays  there  was  always  a  dinner 
at  the  Palazzo  Lanfranchi,  to  which  the  convives  were 
cordially  welcomed.  When  alone  Byron's  table  was 
frugal,  not  to  say  abstemious.  But  on  these  occasions 
every  sort  of  wine,  every  luxury  of  the  season,  and 
every  English  delicacy,  were  displayed.  Medwin  says 
he  never  knew  any  man  do  the  honours  of  his  house 
with  greater  kindness  and  hospitality.  On  one  occasion, 
after  dinner,  the  conversation  turned  on  the  lyrical 
poetry  of  the  day,  and  a  question  arose  as  to  which 
was  the  most  perfect  ode  that  had  been  produced. 
Shelley   contended   for   Coleridge's    on    Switzerland 


12      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

beginning,  '  Ye  clouds,'  etc. ;  others  named  some  of 
Moore's  'Irish  Melodies'  and  Campbell's  '  Hohen- 
linden ';  and,  had  Lord  Byron  not  been  present,  his 
own  Invocation  to  Manfred,  or  Ode  to  Napoleon, 
or  on  Prometheus,  might  have  been  cited.  '  Like 
Gray,'  said  Byron,  '  Campbell  smells  too  much  of  the 
oil :  he  is  never  satisfied  with  what  he  does ;  his  finest 
things  have  been  spoiled  by  over-polish— the  sharp- 
ness of  the  outline  is  worn  off.  Like  paintings,  poems 
may  be  too  highly  finished.  The  great  art  is  effect, 
no  matter  how  produced.' 

And  then,  rising  from  the  table,  he  left  the  room,  and 
presently  returned  with  a  magazine,  from  which  he 
read  'The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore  '  with  the  deepest 
feeling.  It  was  at  that  time  generally  believed  that 
Byron  was  the  author  of  these  admirable  stanzas; 
and  Medwin  says  :  '  I  am  corroborated  in  this  opinion 
lately  (1824)  by  a  lady,  whose  brother  received  them 
many  years  ago  from  Lord  Byron,  in  his  lordship's 
own  handwriting.' 

These  festive  gatherings  were  not  pleasing  to 
Shelley,  who,  with  his  abstemious  tastes  and  modest, 
retiring  disposition,  disliked  the  glare  and  surfeit 
of  it  all.  But  Shelley's  unselfish  nature  overcame 
his  antipathy,  and  for  the  sake  of  others  he  sacrificed 
himself  In  writing  to  his  friend  Horace  Smith, 
he  marks  his  repugnance  for  these  dinners,  'when 
my  nerves  are  generally  shaken  to  pieces  by  sitting 
up,  contemplating  the  rest  of  the  company  making 
themselves  vats  of  claret,  etc.,  till  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning.'  Nevertheless,  companionship  with 
Byron  seemed  for  a  time,  to  Shelley  and  Mary,  to 
be  like  'companionship  with  a  demiurge  who  could 
create  rolling  worlds  at  pleasure  in  the  void  of  space.' 


SHELLEY  NO  INFLUENCE  OVER  BYRON  13 

Shelley's  admiration   for  the   poetic  achievements  of 
Byron  is  well  known : 

*  Space  wondered  less  at  the  swift  and  fair  creations 
of  God  when  he  grew  weary  of  vacancy,  than  I  at  the 
late  works  of  this  spirit  of  an  angel  in  the  mortal 
paradise  of  a  decaying  body.  So  I  think — let  the 
world  envy,  while  it  admires  as  it  may.'* 

And  again :  *  What  think  you  of  Lord  Byron's  last 
volume  ?  In  my  opinion  it  contains  finer  poetry  than 
has  appeared  in  England  since  the  publication  of 
*'  Paradise  Regained."  "  Cain  "  is  apocalyptic  ;  it  is  a 
revelation  not  before  communicated  to  man.' 

Byron  recognized  Shelley's  frankness,  courage,  and 
hardihood  of  opinion,  but  was  not  influenced  by  him 
so  much  as  was  at  that  time  supposed  by  his  friends 
in  England.  In  writing  to  Horace  Smith  (April  11, 
1822),  Shelley  begs  him  to  assure  Moore  that  he  had 
not  the  smallest  influence  over  Byron's  religious 
opinions. 

*  If  I  had,  I  certainly  should  employ  it  to  eradicate 
from  his  great  mind  the  delusions  of  Christianit3'', 
which,  in  spite  of  his  reason,  seem  perpetually  to 
recur,  and  to  lay  in  ambush  for  the  hours  of  sickness 
and  distress.  **  Cain  "  was  cojtceived  many  years  ago, 
and  begun  before  I  saw  him  last  year  at  Ravenna. 
How  happy  should  I  not  be  to  attribute  to  myself, 
however  indirectly,  any  participation  in  that  immortal 
work !' 

'  Byron,'  says  Professor  Dowden  in  his  '  Life  of 
Shelley,'  '  on  his  own  part  protested  that  his  dramatis 
personce  uttered  their  own  opinions  and  sentiments, 
not  his.' 

Byron  undoubtedly  had  a  deep-seated  reverence  for 
religion,  and  had  a  strong  leaning  towards  the  Roman 

*  Letter  to  Mr.  Gisborne,  January  12,  1822.  Professor  Dowden's 
'  Life  of  Shelley,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  447. 


14      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Catholic  doctrines.     Writing  to  Moore  (March  4,  1822), 

he  says : 

'  I  am  no  enemy  to  religion,  but  the  contrary.  As  a 
proof,  I  am  educating  my  natural  daughter  a  strict 
Catholic  in  a  convent  of  Romagna ;  for  I  think  people 
can  never  have  enough  of  religion,  if  they  are  to  have 
any  ...  As  to  poor  Shelley,  who  is  another  bug- 
bear to  you  and  the  world,  he  is,  to  my  knowledge, 
the  least  selfish  and  the  mildest  of  men— a  man  who 
has  made  more  sacrifices  of  his  fortune  and  feelings 
for  others  than  any  I  ever  heard  of.  With  his  specu- 
lative opinions  I  have  nothing  in  common,  nor  desire 
to  have. 

Countess  Guiccioli,  a  woman  of  no  ordinary  intuitive 
perceptions,  with  ample  opportunities  for  judging  the 
characters  of  both  Shelley  and  Byron,  makes  a  clear 
statement  on  this  point : 

'  In  Shelley's  heart  the  dominant  wish  was  to  see 
society  entirely  reorganized.  The  sight  of  human 
miseries  and  infirmities  distressed  him  to  the  greatest 
degree ;  but,  too  modest  himself  to  believe  that  he 
was  called  upon  to  take  the  initiative,  and  inaugurate 
a  new  era  of  good  government  and  fresh  laws  for  the 
benefit  of  humanity,  he  would  have  been  pleased  to 
see  such  a  genius  as  Byron  take  the  initiative  in  this 
undertaking.  Shelley  therefore  did  his  best  to  in- 
fluence Byron.  But  the  latter  hated  discussions.  He 
could  not  bear  entering  into  philosophical  speculation 
at  times  when  his  soul  craved  the  consolations  of 
friendship,  and  his  mind  a  little  rest.  He  was  quite 
insensible  to  reasonings,  which  often  appear  sublime 
because  they  are  clothed  in  words  incomprehensible 
to  those  who  have  not  sought  to  understand  their 
meaning.  But  he  made  an  exception  in  favour  of 
Shelley.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  shake  his  faith 
in  a  doctrine  founded  upon  illusions,  by  his  in- 
credulity; but  he  listened  to  him  with  pleasure,  not 
only  on  account  of  Shelley's  good  faith  and  sincerity, 
but  also  because  he  argued  upon  false  data,  with  such 
talent  and  originality,  that  he  was  both  interested  and 


SHELLEY'S  METAPHYSICS  15 

amused.  Lord  Byron  had  examined  every  form  of 
philosophy  by  the  light  of  common  sense,  and  by  the 
uistinct  of  his  genius.  Pantheism  in  particular  was 
odious  to  him.  He  drew  no  distinction  between 
absolute  Pantheism  which  mixes  up  that  which  is 
infinite  with  that  which  is  finite,  and  that  form  of 
Pantheism  which  struggles  in  vain  to  keep  clear  of 
Atheism.  Shelley's  views,  clothed  in  a  veil  of 
spiritualism,  were  the  most  likely  to  interest  Byron, 
but  they  did  not  fix  him.  Byron  could  never  consent 
to  lose  his  individuality,  deny  his  own  freedom  of 
will,  or  abandon  the  hope  of  a  future  existence.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  Byron  attributed  all  Shelley's  views  to 
the  aberrations  of  a  mind  which  is  happier  when  it 
dreams  than  when  it  denies.' 

*  Shelley  appears  to  me  to  be  mad  with  his  meta- 
physics,' said  3yron  on  one  occasion  to  Count  Gamba. 
*  What  trash  in  all  these  systems  !  say  what  they  will, 
mystery  for  mystery,  I  still  find  that  of  the  Creation 
the  most  reasonable  of  any.' 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  opinions  of  Lord  Byron 
on  matters  of  religion  were  far  more  catholic  than  those 
of  his  friend  Shelley,  who  could  not  have  influenced 
Byron  in  the  manner  generally  supposed.  That  a 
change  came  over  the  spirit  of  Byron's  poetry  after 
meeting  Shelley  on  the  Lake  of  Geneva  is  unques- 
tionable ;  but  the  surface  of  the  waters  may  be 
roughened  by  a  breeze  without  disturbing  the  depths 
below.  Like  all  true  poets,  Byron  was  highly  sus- 
ceptible to  passing  influences,  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Shelley  impressed  him  deeply. 

The  evident  sincerity  in  the  life  and  doctrines  of 
Shelley  —  his  unworldliness ;  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  been  treated  by  the  world,  and  even  by  his 
own  family,  aroused  the  sympathy  of  Byron,  at  a 
time  when  he  himself  was  for  a  different  cause  smart- 
ing  under   somewhat    similar   treatment.      Although 


i6      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Byron  and  Shelley  differed  fundamentally  on  some 
subjects  they  concurred  in  the  principles  of  others. 
Byron  had  no  fixed  religious  opinions— that  was  the 
string  upon  which  Shelley  played— but  there  is  a 
wide  difference  between  doubt  and  denial.  Gamba, 
after  Byron's  death,  wrote  thus  to  Dr.  Kennedy : 

'  My  belief  is  that  Byron's  religious  opinions  were 
not  fixed.  I  mean  that  he  was  not  more  inclined 
towards  one  than  towards  another  of  the  Christian 
sects  ;  but  that  his  feelings  were  thoroughly  religious, 
and  that  he  entertained  the  highest  respect  for  the 
doctrines  of  Christ,  which  he  considered  to  be  the 
source  of  virtue  and  of  goodness.  As  for  the  incorn- 
prehensible  mysteries  of  religion,  his  mind  floated  in 
doubts  which  he  wished  most  earnestly  to  dispel,  as 
they  oppressed  him,  and  that  is  why  he  never  avoided 
a  conversation  on  the  subject,  as  you  are  well  aware. 
I  have  often  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  him  at 
times  when  the  soul  involuntarily  expresses  its  most 
sincere  convictions ;  in  the  midst  of  dangers,  both  at 
sea  and  on  land  ;  in  the  quiet  contemplation  of  a  calm 
and  beautiful  night,  in  the  deepest  solitude.  On  these 
occasions  I  remarked  that  Lord  Byron's  thoughts  were 
always  imbued  with  a  religious  sentiment.  The  first 
time  I  ever  had  a  conversation  with  him  on  that 
subject  was  at  Ravenna,  my  native  place,  a  little  more 
than  four  years  ago.  We  were  riding  together  in  the 
Pineta  on  a  beautiful  spring  day.  "  How,"  said  Byron, 
"  when  we  raise  our  eyes  to  heaven,  or  direct  them  to 
the  earth,  can  we  doubt  of  the  existence  of  God  ?  or 
how,  turning  them  inwards,  can  we  doubt  that  there 
is  something  within  us,  more  noble  and  more  durable 
than  the  clay  of  which  we  are  formed  ?  Those  who 
do  not  hear,  or  are  unwilling  to  listen  to  these  feelings, 
must  necessarily  be  of  a  vile  nature."  I  answered  him 
with  all  those  reasons  which  the  superficial  philosophy 
of  Helvetius,  his  disciples  and  his  masters,  have  taught. 
Byron  replied  with  very  strong  arguments  and  pro- 
found eloquence,  and  I  perceived  that  obstinate  con- 
tradiction on  this  subject,  which  forced  him  to  reason 
upon  it,  gave  him  pain.     This  incident  made  a  deep 


GAMBA'S  LETTER  TO  KENNEDY         17 

impression  upon  me.  .  .  .  Last  year,  at  Genoa,  when 
we  were  preparing  for  our  journey  to  Greece,  Byron 
used  to  converse  with  me  alone  for  two  or  three  hours 
every  evening,  seated  on  the  terrace  of  his  residence 
at  Albaro  in  the  fine  evenings  of  spring,  whence  there 
opened  a  magnificent  view  of  the  superb  city  and  the 
adjoining  sea.  Our  conversation  turned  almost  always 
on  Greece,  for  which  we  were  so  soon  to  depart,  or  on 
religious  subjects.  In  various  ways  I  heard  him  con- 
firm the  sentiments  which  I  have  already  mentioned 
to  you.  "  Why,  then,"  said  I  to  him,  **  have  you 
earned  for  yourself  the  name  of  impious,  and  enemy 
of  all  religious  belief,  from  your  writings  ?"  He 
answered,  "They  are  not  understood,  and  are  wrongly 
interpreted  by  the  malevolent.  My  object  is  only  to 
combat  hypocrisy,  which  I  abhor  in  everything,  and 
particularly  in  religion,  and  which  now  unfortunately 
appears  to  me  to  be  prevalent,  and  for  this  alone  do 
those  to  whom  you  allude  wish  to  render  me  odious, 
and  make  me  out  worse  than  I  am.'*' 

We  have  quoted  only  a  portion  of  Pietro  Gamba's 
letter,  but  sufficient  to  show  that  Byron  has  been,  like 
his  friend  Shelley,  '  brutally  misunderstood.'  There 
was  no  one  better  qualified  than  Count  Gamba  to 
express  an  opinion  on  the  subject,  for  he  was  in  the 
closest  intimacy  with  Byron  up  to  the  time  of  the 
latter's  death.  There  was  no  attempt  on  Byron's  part 
to  mystify  his  young  friend,  who  had  no  epistolary 
intercourse  with  those  credulous  people  in  England 
whom  Byron  so  loved  to 'gull'  The  desire  to  blacken 
his  own  character  was  reserved  for  those  occasions 
when,  as  he  well  knew,  there  would  be  most  publicity. 
Trelawny  says : 

*  Byron's  intimates  smiled  at  his  vaunting  of  his 
vices,  but  comparative  strangers  stared,  and  noted  his 
sayings  to  retail  to  their  friends,  and  that  is  the  way 
many  scandals  got  abroad.' 

According  to  the  same  authority,  George  IV.  made 


i8      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

the  sport  known  as  '  equivocation '  the  fashion  ;  the 
men  about  town  were  ashamed  of  being  thought 
virtuous,  and  bragged  of  their  profligacy.  '  In  com- 
pany,' says  Trelawny,  '  Byron  talked  in  Don  Juan's 
vein ;  with  a  companion  with  whom  he  was  familiar, 
he  thought  aloud.' 

Among  the  accusations  made  against  Byron  by  those 
who  knew  him  least  was  that  of  intemperance— in- 
temperance not  in  meat  and  drink  only,  but  in  every- 
thing. It  must  be  admitted  that  Byron  was  to  blame 
for  this ;  he  vaunted  his  propensity  for  the  bottle, 
and  even  attributed  his  poetic  inspirations  to  its  aid. 
Trelawny,  who  had  observed  him  closely,  says: 

*0f  all  his  vauntings,  it  was,  luckily  for  him,  the 
emptiest.  From  all  that  I  heard  or  witnessed  of  his 
habits  abroad,  he  was  and  had  been  exceedingly 
abstemious  in  eating  and  drinking.  When  alone,  he 
drank  a  glass  or  two  of  small  claret  or  hock,  and  when 
utterly  exhausted  at  night,  a  single  glass  of  grog; 
which,  when  I  mixed  it  for  him,  I  lowered  to  what 
sailors  call  "  water  bewitched,"  and  he  never  made 
any  remark.  I  once,  to  try  him,  omitted  the  alcohol ; 
he  then  said,  "  Tre,  have  you  not  forgotten  the  creature 
comfort  ?"  I  then  put  in  two  spoonfuls,  and  he  was 
satisfied.  This  does  not  look  like  an  habitual  toper. 
Byron  had  not  damaged  his  body  by  strong  drinks,  but 
his  terror  of  getting  fat  was  so  great  that  he  reduced 
his  diet  to  the  point  of  absolute  starvation.  He  was 
the  only  human  being  I  ever  met  with  who  had  suffi- 
cient self-restraint  and  resolution  to  resist  this  prone- 
ness  to  fatten.  He  did  so;  and  at  Genoa,  where  he 
was  last  weighed,  he  was  ten  stone  and  nine  pounds, 
and  looked  much  less.  This  was  not  from  vanity  of 
his  personal  appearance,  but  from  a  better  motive, 
and,  as  he  was  always  hungry,  his  merit  was  the 
greater.  Whenever  he  relaxed  his  vigilance  he  swelled 
apace.  He  would  exist  on  biscuits  and  soda-water  for 
days  together;  then,  to  allay  the  eternal  hunger  gnaw- 
ing at  his  vitals,  he  would  make  up  a  horrid  mess  of 


BYRON'S  WEIGHT 


19 


cold  potatoes,  rice,  fish,  or  greens,  deluged  in  vinegar, 
and  swallow  it  like  a  famished  dog.  Either  of  these 
unsavoury  dishes,  with  a  biscuit  and  a  glass  or  two  of 
Rhine  wine,  he  cared  not  how  sour,  he  called  feasting 
sumptuously.  Byron  was  of  that  soft,  lymphatic  tem- 
perament which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  keep  within 
a  moderate  compass,  particularly  as  in  his  case  his 
lameness  prevented  his  taking  exercise.  When  he 
added  to  his  weight,  even  standing  was  painful,  so  he 
resolved  to  keep  down  to  eleven  stone.' 

While  on  this  subject,  it  is  not  uninteresting  to 
contrast  the  effects  of  Byron's  regimen  of  abstinence 
by  the  light  of  a  record  kept  by  the  celebrated  wine- 
merchants,  Messrs.  Berry,  of  St.  James's  Street.  This 
register  of  weights  has  been  kept  on  their  premises 
for  the  convenience  of  their  customers  since  1765,  and 
contains  over  twenty  thousand  names.  The  following 
extract  was  made  by  the  present  writer  on  Novem- 
ber 2,  1897  •* 

Date. 

January  4,  1806  (boots,  no  hat) 

July  8,  1807  (shoes)    

July  23,  1807  (shoes,  no  hat) 
August  13,  1807  (shoes,  no  hat) 
January  13,  1808  (see  Moore's  '  Life') 
May  27,  1808  (Messrs.  Berry")  ... 
June  10,  1809  (Messrs.  Berry)  ... 
July  15,  1811  (Messrs.  Berry)    ... 
(Circa)  June,  1823  (see  Trelawny) 

It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  between  the  ages 
of  eighteen  and  thirty-five  Byron  had  reduced  his 
weight  by  three  stone  and  three  pounds.  The  fluc- 
tuations between  the  ages  of  nineteen  and  thirty-five 
are  not  remarkable.  This  record  marks  the  con- 
sistency of  a  heroic  self-denial  under  what  must  often 
have  been  a  strong  temptation  to  appease  the  pangs 


Stone. 

lbs. 

Age. 

13 

12 

..    18 

10 

13 

..    19 

II 

0 

..    19 

10 

114 

..    19 

10 

7 

20 

II 

I 

— 

II 

5f 

21 

9 

114 

..    23 

10 

9 

••   35 

of  hunger. 


Lord  Byron.' 


CHAPTER  II 

Byron's  life  at  Pisa,  as  afterwards  at  Genoa,  was  what 
most  people  would  call  a  humdrum,  dull  existence. 
He  rose  late. 

*  Billiards,  conversation,  or  reading,  filled  up  the 
intervals,'  says  Medwin,  '  till  it  was  time  to  take  our 
evening  drive,  ride,  and  pistol-practice.  On  our 
return,  which  was  always  in  the  same  direction,  we 
frequently  met  the  Countess  Guiccioli,  with  whom  he 
stopped  to  converse  a  few  minutes.  He  dined  at  half 
an  hour  after  sunset,  then  drove  to  Count  Gamba's, 
the  Countess  Guiccioli's  father,  passed  several  hours 
in  their  society,  returned  to  his  palace,  and  either  read 
or  wrote  till  two  or  three  in  the  morning ;  occasionally 
drinking  spirits  diluted  with  water  as  a  medicine, 
from  a  dread  of  a  nephritic  complaint,  to  which  he 
was,  or  fancied  himself,  subject.' 

On  Sunday,  March  24,  1822,  while  Byron,  Shelley, 
Trelawny,  Captain  Hay,  Count  Pietro  Gamba,  and  an 
Irish  gentleman  named  Taaffe,  were  returning  from 
their  evening  ride,  and  had  nearly  reached  the  Porta 
alle  Piagge  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  Lung'  Arno, 
Sergeant-Major  Masi,  belonging  to  a  dragoon  regiment, 
being  apparently  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  back  to 
barracks,  pushed  his  way  unceremoniously  through 
the  group  of  riders  in  front  of  him,  and  somewhat 
severely  jostled  Mr.  Taaffe.    This  gentleman  appealed 

20 


THE  AFFRAY  AT  PISA  21 

to  Byron,  and  the  latter  demanded  an  apology  from 
the  sergeant,  whom  he  at  first  mistook  for  an  officer. 
The  sergeant  lost  his  temper,  and  called  out  the 
guard  at  the  gateway.  Byron  and  Gamba  dashed 
through,  however,  and  before  the  others  could  follow 
there  was  some  '  dom'd  cutting  and  slashing ';  Shelley 
was  knocked  off  his  horse,  and  Captain  Hay  received 
a  wound  in  his  face.  Masi  in  alarm  fled,  and  on  the 
Lung'  Arno  met  Byron  returning  to  the  scene  of 
the  fray :  an  altercation  took  place,  and  one  of  Byron's 
servants,  who  thought  that  Masi  had  wounded  his 
master,  struck  at  him  with  a  pitchfork,  and  tumbled 
the  poor  fellow  off  his  horse.  There  was  a  tremendous 
hubbub  about  this,  and  the  legal  proceedings  which 
followed  occupied  two  months,  with  much  bluster, 
false  swearing,  and  injustice,  as  a  natural  consequence. 
The  court  eventually  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there 
was  no  evidence  for  criminal  proceedings  against  any 
of  Byron's  domestics,  but,  in  consideration  of  Giovanni 
Battista  Falcieri — one  of  Byron's  servants — having  a 
black  beard,  he  was  condemned  to  be  escorted  by  the 
police  to  the  frontier  and  banished  from  the  grand- 
duchy  of  Tuscany. 

At  the  same  time  the  Gambas  (who  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  affair)  were  told  that  their 
presence  at  Pisa  was  disagreeable  to  the  Government. 
In  consequence  of  the  hint,  Byron  and  the  Gambas 
hired  the  Villa  Dupuy,  at  Montenero,  near  Leghorn. 
Here,  on  June  28,  1822,  a  scuffle  took  place  in  the 
gardens  of  the  villa  between  the  servants  of  Count 
Gamba  and  of  Byron,  in  which  Byron's  coachman  and 
his  cook  took  part.  Knives  were  drawn  as  usual. 
Byron  appeared  on  the  balcony  with  his  pistols, 
and  threatened  to  shoot  the  whole  party  if  they  did 


22      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

not  drop  their  knives,  and  the  police  had  to  be  called 
in  to  quell  the  disturbance.  The  Government,  who 
were  anxious  to  be  rid  of  Byron,  took  advantage  of 
this  riot  at  the  Villa  Dupuy.  Byron's  courier  and 
Gamba's  valet  were  sent  over  the  frontier  of  the  grand- 
duchy  under  police  escort,  and  the  Gambas  were 
warned  that,  unless  they  left  the  country  within  three 
days,  formal  sentence  of  banishment  would  be  passed 
upon  them.  As  soon  as  Byron  heard  the  news,  he 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  Governor  of  Leghorn,  and 
asked  for  a  respite  for  his  friends.  A  few  days  grace 
were  granted  to  the  Gambas,  and  on  July  8  they  took 
passports  for  Genoa,  intending  to  go  first  to  the  Baths 
of  Lucca,  where  they  hoped  to  obtain  permission  to 
return  to  Pisa.  While  negotiations  were  proceeding 
Byron  returned  to  the  Palazzo  Lanfranchi.* 

On  April  20,  1822,  there  died  at  Bagnacavallo,  not  far 
from  Ravenna,  Byron's  natural  daughter  Allegra, 
whose  mother,  Claire  Clairmont,  had  joined  the 
Shelleys  at  Pisa  five  days  previously.  The  whole 
story  is  a  sad  one,  and  shall  be  impartially  given  in 
these  pages. 

When  Shelley  left  Ravenna  in  August,  1821,  he 
understood  that  Byron  had  determined  that  Allegra 
should  not  be  left  behind,  alone  and  friendless,  in  the 
Convent  of  Bagnacavallo,  and  Shelley  hoped  that  an 
arrangement  would  be  made  by  which  Claire  might 
have  the  happiness  of  seeing  her  child  once  more. 
When  Byron  arrived  at  Pisa  in  November,  and 
Allegra  was  not  with  him,  Claire  Clairmont's  anxiety 
was  so  great  that  she  wrote  twice  to  Byron,  pro- 
testing against  leaving  her  child  in  so  unhealthy  a  place, 

*  'Letters   and   Journals   of    Lord    Byron,'    edited    by    Rowland 
Prothero,  vol.  vi.,  appendix  iii. 


DEATH  OF  ALLEGRA  23 

and  entreated  him  to  place  Allegra  with  some  respect- 
able family  in  Pisa,  or  Florance,  or  Lucca.  She 
promised  not  to  go  near  the  child,  if  such  was  his  wish, 
nor  should  Mary  or  Shelley  do  so  without  Byron's 
consent.  Byron,  it  appears,  took  no  notice  of  these 
letters.  The  Shelleys,  while  strongly  of  opinion  that 
Allegra  should  in  some  way  be  taken  out  of  Byron's 
hands,  thought  it  prudent  to  temporize  and  watch  for 
a  favourable  opportunity.  Claire  held  wild  schemes 
for  carrying  off  the  child,  schemes  which  were  under 
the  circumstances  impolitic,  even  if  practicable.  Both 
Mary  and  Shelley  did  their  utmost  to  dissuade  Claire 
from  any  violent  attempts,  and  Mary,  in  a  letter 
written  at  this  time,  assures  Claire  that  her  anxiety  for 
Allegra's  health  was  to  a  great  degree  unfounded. 
After  carefully  considering  the  affair  she  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  Allegra  was  well  taken  care  of  by 
the  nuns  in  the  convent,  that  she  was  in  good  health, 
and  would  in  all  probability  continue  so. 

On  April  15  Claire  Clairmont  arrived  at  Pisa  on 
a  visit  to  the  Shelleys,  and  a  few  days  later  started 
with  the  Williamses  for  Spezzia,  to  search  for  houses 
on  the  bay.     Professor  Dowden  says  :* 

'They  cannot  have  been  many  hours  on  their 
journey,  when  Shelley  and  Mary  received  tidings  of 
sorrowful  import,  which  Mary  chronicles  in  her 
journal  with  the  words  "  Evil  news."  Allegra  was 
dead.  Typhus  fever  had  raged  in  the  Romagna,  but 
no  one  wrote  to  inform  her  parents  with  the  fact.' 

Lord  Byron  felt  the  loss  bitterly  at  first. 

*  His  conduct  towards  this  child,'  says  Countess 
Guiccioli,  *was  always  that  of  a  fond  father.  He  was 
dreadfully   agitated   by   the   first   intelligence   of   her 

*  '  Life  of  Shelley,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  494. 


24  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

illness  ;  and  when  afterwards  that  of  her  death  arrived, 
I  was  obliged  to  fulfil  the  melancholy^  task  of  com- 
municating it  to  him.  The  memory  of  that  frightful 
moment  is  stamped  indelibly  on  my  mind.  A  mortal 
paleness  spread  itself  over  his  face,  his  strength  failed 
him,  and  he  sank  into  a  seat.  His  look  was  fixed,  and 
the  expression  such  that  I  began  to  fear  for  his  reason  ; 
he  did  not  shed  a  tear;  and  his  countenance  manifested 
so  hopeless,  so  profound,  so  sublime  a  sorrow,  that  at 
the  moment  he  appeared  a  being  of  a  nature  superior 
to  humanity.  He  remained  immovable  in  the  same 
attitude  for  an  hour,  and  no  consolation  which  I 
endeavoured  to  afford  him  seemed  to  reach  his  ears, 
far  less  his  heart.' 

Writing  to  Shelley  on  April  23,  1822,  Byron  says : 

'  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  anything  to  reproach  in 
my  conduct,  and  certainly  nothing  in  my  feelings  and 
intentions  towards  the  dead.  But  it  is  a  moment  when 
we  are  apt  to  think  that,  if  this  or  that  had  been  done, 
such  events  might  have  been  prevented,  though  every 
day  and  hour  shows  us  that  they  are  the  most  natural 
and  inevitable.  I  suppose  that  Time  will  do  his  usual 
work.     Death  has  done  his.' 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  Byron's  conduct  in 
the  matter  of  Miss  Claire  Clairmont — conduct  which 
Allegra's  mother  invariabl}'-  painted  in  the  darkest 
colours — the  fact  remains  as  clear  as  day,  that  Byron 
always  behaved  well  and  kindly  towards  the  poor 
little  child  whose  death  gave  him  such  intense  pain. 
The  evidence  of  the  Hoppners  at  Venice,  of  Countess 
Guiccioli  at  Ravenna,  and  of  the  Shelleys,  all  point  in 
the  same  direction ;  and  if  any  doubt  existed,  a  close 
study  of  the  wild  and  wayward  character  of  Claire 
Clairmont  would  show  where  the  truth  in  the  matter 
lay.  Byron  was  pestered  by  appeals  from  Allegra's 
mother,  indirectly  on  her  own  behalf,  and  directly  on 
behalf  of  the  child.     Claire  never  understood  that,  by 


BYRON'S  ANTIPATHY  TO  CLAIRE        25 

reason  of  Byron's  antipathy  to  her,  the  surest  way  of 
not  getting  what  she  wanted  was  to  ask  for  it ;  and, 
with  appalling  persistency,  she  even  persuaded  Shelley 
to  risk  his  undoubted  influence  over  Byron  by  inter- 
cessions on  her  behalf,  until  Byron's  opinion  of 
Shelley's  judgment  was  shaken.  After  making  full 
allowance  for  the  maternal  feeling,  so  strong  in  all 
women,  it  was  exceedingly  foolish  of  Claire  not  to 
perceive  that  Byron,  by  taking  upon  himself  the 
adoption  of  the  child,  had  shielded  her  from  scandal ; 
and  that,  having  surrendered  Allegra  to  his  care,  Claire 
could  not  pretend  to  any  claim  or  responsibility  in  the 
matter.  It  should  also  be  pointed  out  that,  in  sending 
Allegra  to  the  convent  at  Bagnacavallo,  Byron  had  no 
intention  of  leaving  her  there  for  any  length  of  time. 
It  was  merely  a  provisional  step,  and,  at  Hoppner's 
suggestion,  Byron  thought  of  sending  the  child  to  a 
good  institution  in  Switzerland.  In  his  will  he  had 
bequeathed  to  the  child  the  sum  of  ^5,000,  which  was 
to  be  paid  to  her  either  on  her  marriage  or  on  her 
attaining  the  age  of  twenty-one  years  (according  as  the 
one  or  the  other  should  happen  first),  with  the  proviso 
that  she  should  not  marry  with  a  native  of  Great 
Britain.  Byron  was  anxious  to  keep  her  out  of 
England,  because  he  thought  that  his  natural  daughter 
would  be  under  great  disadvantage  in  that  country, 
and  would  have  a  far  better  chance  abroad. 


CHAPTER  III 

On  April  26,  1822,  the  Shelleys  left  Pisa  for  Lerici, 
and  on  May  i  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  Casa 
Magni,  situated  near  the  fishing-village  of  San  Terenzo. 
Towards  the  close  of  May,  Byron  moved  to  his  new 
residence  at  Montenero,  near  Leghorn. 

Leigh  Hunt's  arrival,  at  the  end  of  June,  added  con- 
siderably to  Byron's  perplexities.  The  poet  had  not 
seen  Hunt  since  they  parted  in  England  six  years 
before,  and  many  things  had  happened  to  both  of 
them  since  then.  Byron,  never  satisfied  that  his 
promise  to  contribute  poetry  to  a  joint  stock  literary 
periodical  was  wise,  disliked  the  idea  more  and  more 
as  time  went  on,  and  Shelley  foresaw  considerable 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  keeping  Byron  up  to  the 
mark  in  this  respect.  Hunt  had  brought  over  by  sea 
a  sick  wife  and  several  children,  and  opened  the  ball 
by  asking  Byron  for  a  loan  of  money  to  meet  current 
expenses.  Byron  now  discovered  that  Leigh  Hunt 
had  ceased  to  be  editor  of  the  Examiner,  and,  being 
absolutely  without  any  source  of  income,  had  no 
prospect  save  the  money  he  hoped  to  get  from  a 
journal  not  yet  in  existence.  He  ought,  of  course,  to 
have  told  both  Byron  and  Shelley  that  in  coming  to 
Italy  with   his   family— a  wife   and   six   children— he 

26 


HUNT'S  IMPECUNIOSITY  27 

would  naturally  expect  one  or  both  of  his  friends  to 
provide  the  necessary  funds.  This  information  Hunt 
withheld,  and  although  both  Byron  and  Shelley  knew 
him  to  be  in  pecuniary  embarrassment,  and  had  every 
wish  to  assist  him,  they  were  both  under  the  impres- 
sion that  Hunt  had  some  small  income  from  the 
Examiner.  Byron  was  astonished  to  hear  that  his 
proposed  coadjutor  in  a  literary  venture  had  not 
enough  money  in  his  pockets  even  for  one  month's 
current  expenses.  He  was  not  inclined  to  submit 
tamely  to  Hunt's  arrangements  for  sucking  money 
out  of  him. 

Beginning  as  he  meant  to  go  on,  Byron  from  the 
first  showed  Hunt  that  he  had  no  intention  of  being 
imposed  upon,  and  the  social  intercourse  between 
them  was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  somewhat  strained. 
Byron  and  Shelley  betv/een  them  had  furnished  the 
ground-floor  of  the  Palazzo  Lanfranchi  for  the  Hunt 
family,  and  had  Shelley  lived  he  would,  presumably, 
have  impoverished  himself  by  disbursements  in  their 
favour;  but  his  death  placed  the  Hunts  in  a  false 
position.  Had  Shelley  lived,  his  influence  over  Byron 
would  have  diminished  the  friction  between  Byron 
and  his  tactless  guest.  The  amount  of  money  spent 
by  Byron  on  the  Hunt  family  was  not  great,  but, 
considering  the  comparative  cheapness  of  living  in 
Italy  at  that  time,  and  the  difference  in  the  value 
of  money,  Byron's  contribution  was  not  niggardly. 
After  paying  for  the  furniture  of  their  rooms  in  his 
palace,  and  sending  £200  for  the  cost  of  their  voyage 
to  Italy,  Byron  gave  Leigh  Hunt  £70  while  he  was 
at  Pisa,  defrayed  the  cost  of  their  journey  from 
Pisa  to  Genoa,  and  supplied  them  with  another  £T)0 
to   enable   them   to   travel   to    Florence.     There   was 


28      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

really  no  occasion  for  Byron  to  make  Hunt  a  present 
of  ^500,  which  he  seems  to  have  done,  except  Hunt's 
absolute  incapacity  to  make  both  ends  meet,  which 
was  his  perpetual  weakness.  From  the  manner  in 
which  Hunt  treats  his  pecuniary  transactions  with 
the  wide-awake  Byron,  it  is  evident  that  the  sum 
would  have  risen  to  thousands  if  Byron  had  not  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  '  insatiable  applicant'  at  his  elbow. 

On  the  first  visit  which  Trelawny  paid  to  Byron  at 
the  Palazzo  Lanfranchi  after  Hunt's  arrival,  he  found 
Mrs.  Hunt  was  confined  to  her  room,  as  she  generally 
was,  from  bad  health.     Trelawny  says  : 

'  Hunt,  too,  was  in  delicate  health — a  hypochondriac ; 
and  the  seven  children,  untamed,  the  eldest  a  little 
more  than  ten,  and  the  youngest  a  yearling,  were 
scattered  about  playing  on  the  large  marble  staircase 
and  in  the  hall.  Hunt's  theory  and  practice  were 
that  children  should  be  unrestrained  until  they  were  of 
an  age  to  be  reasoned  with.  If  they  kept  out  of  his 
way  he  was  satisfied.  On  my  entering  the  poet's 
study,  I  said  to  him,  "The  Hunts  have  effected  a 
lodgment  in  your  palace;"  and  I  was  thinking  how 
different  must  have  been  his  emotion  on  the  arrival  of 
the  Hunts  from  that  triumphant  morning  after  the 
publication  of  *'  Childe  Harold  "  when  he  "awoke  and 
found  himself  famous." ' 

Truth  told,  the  Hunts'  lodgment  in  his  palace  must 
have  been  a  terrible  infliction  to  the  sensitive  Byron. 
His  letters  to  friends  in  England  at  this  time  are  full 
of  allusions  to  the  prevailing  discomfort.  Trelawny 
tells  us  that 

'  Byron  could  not  realize,  till  the  actual  experiment 
was  tried,  the  nuisance  of  having  a  man  with  a  sick 
wife  and  seven  disorderly  children  interrupting  his 
solitude  and  his  ordinary  customs— especially  as  Hunt 
did  not  conceal  that  his  estimate  of  Byron's  poetry  was 
not  exalted.    At  that  time  Hunt  thought  highly  of  his 


BYRON'S  RECEPTION  OF  MRS.  HUNT      29 

own  poetry  and  underestimated  all  other.  Leigh  Hunt 
thought  that  Shelley  would  have  made  a  great  poet  if 
he  had  written  on  intelligible  subjects.  Shelley  soared 
too  high  for  him,  and  Byron  flew  too  near  the  ground. 
There  was  not  a  single  subject  on  which  Byron  and 
Hunt  could  agree.' 

After  Shelley  and  his  friend  Williams  had  established 
the  Hunts  in  Lord  Byron's  palace  at  Pisa,  they  returned 
to  Leghorn,  Shelley  '  in  a  mournful  mood,  depressed 
by  a  recent  interview  with  Byron,'  says  Trelawny. 

It  was  evident  to  all  who  knew  Byron  that  he 
bitterly  repented  having  pledged  himself  to  embark  on 
the  literary  venture  which,  unfortunately,  he  himself  had 
initiated.  At  their  last  interview  Shelley  found  Byron 
irritable  whilst  talking  with  him  on  the  fulfilment 
of  his  promises  with  regard  to  Leigh  Hunt.  Byron, 
like  a  lion  caught  in  a  trap,  could  only  grind  his  teeth 
and  bear  it.  Unfortunately,  it  w^as  not  in  Byron's 
nature  to  bear  things  becomingly ;  he  could  not  restrain 
the  exhibition  of  his  inner  mind.  On  these  occasions 
he  was  not  at  his  best,  and  forgot  the  courtesy  due 
even  to  the  most  unwelcome  guest.  Williams  appears 
to  have  been  much  impressed  by  Byron's  reception  of 
Mrs.  Hunt,  and,  writing  to  his  wife  from  Leghorn, 
says : 

*  Lord  Byron's  reception  of  Mrs.  Hunt  was  most 
shameful.  She  came  into  his  house  sick  and  ex- 
hausted, and  he  scarcely  deigned  to  notice  her;  was 
silent,  and  scarcely  bowed.  This  conduct  cut  Hunt 
to  the  soul.  But  the  way  in  which  he  received  our 
friend  Roberts,  at  Dunn's  door,*  shall  be  described 
when  we  meet :  it  must  be  acted.' 

Shelley  and  Edward  Williams,  two  days  after  that 
letter  had  been  written — on  Monday,  July  8,  1822,  at 

*  Henry  Dunn  kept  a  British  shop  at  Leghorn. 


30      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon— set  sail  on  the  Ariel 
for  their  home  on  the  Gulf  of  Spezzia.  The  story  is 
well  known,  thanks  to  the  graphic  pen  of  Edward 
Trelawny,  and  we  need  only  allude  to  the  deaths  of 
Shelley  and  Williams,  and  the  sailor  lad  Charles 
Vivian,  in  so  far  as  it  comes  into  our  picture  of  Byron 
at  this  period. 

Byron  attended  the  cremation  of  the  bodies  ol 
Shelley  and  Williams,  and  showed  his  deep  sympathy 
with  Mary  Shelley  and  Jane  Williams  in  various  ways. 

Writing  to  John  Murray  from  Pisa  on  August  3, 
1822,  he  says : 

'  I  presume  you  have  heard  that  Mr.  Shelley  and 
Captain  Williams  were  lost  on  the  7th  ultimo  in  their 
passage  from  Leghorn  to  Spezzia,  in  their  own  open 
boat.  You  may  imagine  the  state  of  their  families  : 
I  never  saw  such  a  scene,  nor  wish  to  see  another. 
You  were  all  brutally  mistaken  about  Shelley,  who 
was,  without  exception,  the  best  and  least  selfish  man 
I  ever  knew.  I  never  knew  one  who  was  not  a  beast 
in  comparison.'* 

Writing  August  8,  1822,  to  Thomas  Moore,  Byron 
says  in  allusion  to  Shelley's  death  : 

'There  is  thus  another  man  gone,  about  whom  the 
world  was  ill-naturedly,  and  ignorantly,  and  brutally 
mistaken.  It  will,  perhaps,  do  him  justice  now,  when 
he  can  be  no  better  for  it' 

In  another  letter,  written  December  25,  1822,  Byron 
says  : 

'  You  are  all  mistaken  about  Shelley.  You  do  not 
know  how  mild,  how  tolerant,  how  good  he  was  in 
society  ;  and  as  perfect  a  gentleman  as  ever  crossed  a 
drawmg-room,  when  he  liked,  and  where  he  liked.' 

*  For  Byron's  opinion  of  Shelley's  poetry,  see  appendix  to  '  The 
Two  Foscari '  :  '  I  highly  admire  the  poetry  of  "  Queen  Mab  "  and 
Shelley's  other  publications.' 


THE  'LIBERAL'  A  BAD  BUSINESS  31 

Byron's  opinion  of  Leigh  Hunt,  and  his  own  con- 
nection with  that  ill-fated  venture  known  as  The 
Liberal,  is  concisely  given  by  Byron  himself  in  a 
letter  to  Murray.  The  Liberal,  published  October  15, 
1822,  was  fiercely  attacked  in  the  Literary  Gazette  and 
other  periodicals.  The  Courier  for  October  26,  1822, 
calls  it  a  '  scoundrel-like  publication.'     Byron  writes  : 

*  I  am  afraid  the  journal  is  a  bad  business,  and  won't 
do  ;  but  in  it  I  am  sacrificing  myself  ior  others — I  can 
have  no  advantage  in  it.  I  believe  the  brothers  Hunt 
to  be  honest  men  ;  I  am  sure  they  are  poor  ones. 
They  have  not  a  rap  :  they  pressed  me  to  engage  in 
this  work,  and  in  an  evil  hour  I  consented  ;  still,  I 
shall  not  repent,  if  I  can  do  them  the  least  service.  I 
have  done  all  I  can  for  Leigh  Hunt  since  he  came 
here;  but  it  is  almost  useless.  His  wife  is  ill,  his  six 
children  not  very  tractable,  and  in  the  affairs  of  the 
world  he  himself  is  a  child.  The  death  of  Shelley  left 
them  totally  aground  ;  and  I  could  not  see  them  in 
such  a  state  without  using  the  common  feelings  of 
humanity,  and  what  means  were  in  my  power  to  set 
them  afloat  again.' 

In  another  letter  to  Murray  (December  25,  1822) 
Byron  says  : 

*  Had  their  [the  Hunts']  journal  gone  on  well,  and  I 
could  have  aided  to  make  it  better  for  them,  I  should 
then  have  left  them,  after  my  safe  pilotage  off  a  lee- 
shore,  to  make  a  prosperous  voyage  by  themselves. 
As  it  is,  I  can't,  and  would  not  if  I  could,  leave  them 
amidst  the  breakers.     As  to  any  community  of  feeling, 

1  thought,  or   opinion   between    Leigh    Hunt  and   me, 

there  is  little  or  none.  We  meet  rarely,  hardly  ever  ; 
but  I  think  him  a  good-principled  and  able  man,  and 
must  do  as  I  would  be  done  by.  I  do  not  know  what 
world  he  has  lived  in,  but  I  have  lived  in  three  or 
four ;  and  none  of  them  like  his  Keats  and  Kangaroo 
terra  incognita.  Alas  !  poor  Shelley !  how  he  would 
have  laughed  had  he  lived,  and  how  we  used  to  laugh 
now  and  then,  at  various  things,  which  are  grave  in 
the  Suburbs !' 


32      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

It  is  perhaps  not  generally  known  that  Shelley 
bequeathed  a  legacy  of  i:2,ooo  to  Byron.  Byron's 
renunciation  of  this  token  of  friendship  is  ignored 
by  Professor  Dowden  in  his  life  of  Shelley.  Writing 
to  Leigh  Hunt  on  June  28,  1823,  Byron  says : 

'There  was  something  about  a  legacy  of  two 
thousand  pounds  which  he  [Shelley]  has  left  me. 
This,  of  course,  I  declined,  and  the  more  so  that  I  hear 
that  his  will  is  admitted  valid;  and  I  state  this  dis- 
tinctly that,  in  case  of  anything  happening  to  me,  my 
heirs  may  be  instructed  not  10  claim  it.' 

Towards  the  end  of  September,  1822,  Byron  and  the 
Countess  Guiccioli  left  the  Palazzo  Lanfranchi,  and 
moved  from  Pisa  to  Albaro,  a  suburb  of  Genoa.  At 
the  Villa  Saluzzo,  where  the  poet  resided  until  his 
departure  for  Greece,  dwelt  also  Count  Gamba  and 
his  son  Pietro,  who  occupied  one  part  of  that  large 
house,  while  Byron  occupied  another  part,  and  their 
establishments  were  quite  separate.  The  first  number 
of  The  Liberal  which  had  been  printed  in  London, 
reached  Byron's  hands  at  this  time.  The  birth  of  that 
unlucky  publication  was  soon  followed  by  its  death, 
as  anyone  knowing  the  circumstances  attending  its 
conception  might  have  foreseen.  Shelley's  death  may 
be  said  to  have  destroyed  the  enterprise  and  energy 
of  the  survivors  of  that  small  coterie,  who,  in  the 
absence  of  that  vital  force,  the  fine  spirit  that  had 
animated  and  held  them  together,  *  degenerated  apace,' 
as  Trelawny  tells  us.  Byron  'exhausted  himself  in 
planning,  projecting,  beginning,  wishing,  intending, 
postponing,  regretting,  and  doing  nothing.  The  un- 
ready are  fertile  in  excuses,  and  his  were  inexhaustible.' 

In  December,  1822,  Trelawny  laid  up  Byron's  yacht, 
The  Bolivar,  paid  off  the  crew,  and  started  on  horse- 


LOSS  OF  THE  'BOLIVAR'  3s 

back  for  Rome.  The  Bolivar  was  eventually  sold 
by  Byron  to  Lord  Blessington  for  400  guineas.  Four 
or  five  years  after  Byron's  death  this  excellent  little 
sea-boat,  with  Captain  Roberts  (who  planned  her  for 
Byron)  on  board,  struck  on  the  iron-bound  coast  of 
the  Adriatic  and  foundered.  Not  a  plank  of  her  was 
saved. 

*  Never,'  said  Captain  Roberts  in  narrating  the 
circumstance  many  years  afterwards,  *  was  there  a 
better  sea-boat,  or  one  that  made  less  lee-way  than 
the  dear  little  Bolivar,  but  she  could  not  walk  in  the 
wind's  eye.  I  dared  not  venture  to  put  her  about  in 
that  gale  for  fear  of  getting  into  the  trough  of  the  sea 
and  being  swamped.  To  take  in  sail  was  impossible, 
so  all  we  had  left  for  it  was  to  luff  her  up  in  the  lulls, 
and  trust  to  Providence  for  the  rest.  ISfight  came  on 
dark  and  cold,  for  it  was  November,  and  as  the  sea 
boiled  and  foamed  in  her  wake,  it  shone  through  the 
pitchy  darkness  with  a  phosphoric  efflorescence.  The 
last  thing  I  heard  was  my  companion's  exclamation, 
"  Breakers  ahead !"  and  almost  at  the  same  instant 
The  Bolivar  struck :  the  crash  was  awful ;  a  watery 
column  fell  upon  her  bodily  like  an  avalanche,  and  all 
that  I  remember  was,  that  I  was  struggling  with  the 
waves.  I  am  a  strong  swimmer,  and  have  often 
contested  with  Byron  in  his  own  element,  so  after 
battling  long  with  the  billows,  covered  with  bruises, 
and  more  dead  than  alive,  I  succeeded  in  scrambling 
up  the  rocks,  and  found  myself  in  the  evergreen  pine- 
forest  of  Ravenna,  some  miles  from  any  house.  But 
at  last  I  sheltered  myself  in  a  forester's  hut.  Death 
and  I  had  a  hard  struggle  that  bout.'* 

On  April  i,  1823,  Lord  and  Lady  Blessington 
called  on  Byron  at  the  Casa  Saluzzo.  Lady  Blessing- 
ton assures  us  that,  in  speaking  of  his  wife,  Byron 
declared  that  he  was  totally  unconscious  of  the  cause 
of  her  leaving  him.     He   said  that  he  left  no  means 

*  '  The  Angler  in  Wales,'  by  Thomas  Medwin,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  144-146. 

3 


34      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

untried  to  effect  a  reconciliation,  and  added  with  bitter- 
ness :  '  A  day  will  arrive  when  I  shall  be  avenged.  I 
feel  that  I  shall  not  live  long,  and  when  the  grave  has 
closed  over  me,  what  must  she  feel !' 

In  speaking  of  his  sister,  Byron  always  spoke  with 
strong  affection,  and  said  that  she  was  the  most  faultless 
person  he  had  ever  known,  and  that  she  was  his  only 
source  of  consolation  in  his  troubles  during  the  separa- 
tion business. 

'  Byron,'  says  Lady  Blessington,  '  has  remarkable 
penetration  in  discovering  the  characters  of  those 
around  him,  and  piques  himself  on  it.  He  also  thinks 
that  he  has  fathomed  the  recesses  of  his  own  mind ; 
but  he  is  mistaken.  With  much  that  is  little  (which  he 
suspects)  in  his  character,  there  is  much  that  is  great 
that  he  does  not  give  himself  credit  for.  His  first 
impulses  are  always  good,  but  his  temper,  which  is 
impatient,  prevents  his  acting  on  the  cool  dictates  of 
reason.  He  mistakes  temper  for  character,  and  takes 
the  ebullitions  of  the  first  for  the  indications  of  the 
nature  of  the  second.' 

Lady  Blessington  seems  to  have  made  a  most 
searching  examination  of  Byron's  character,  and  very 
little  escaped  her  vigilance  during  the  two  months  of 
their  intimate  intercourse.  She  tells  us  that  Byron 
talked  for  effect,  and  liked  to  excite  astonishment. 
It  was  difficult  to  know  when  he  was  serious,  or  when 
he  was  merely  'bamming'  his  aquaintances.  He 
admitted  that  he  liked  to  hoax  people,  in  order  that 
they  might  give  contradictory  accounts  of  him  and  of 
his  opinions.  He  spoke  very  highly  of  Countess 
Guiccioli,  whom  he  had  passionately  loved  and  deeply 
respected.  Lady  Blessington  says :  *  In  his  praises 
of  Madame  Guiccioli  it  is  quite  evident  that  he  is 
sincere.' 


BYRON'S  OPINION  OF  SHELLEY  35 

Byron  confessed  that  he  was  not  happy,  but  admitted 
that  it  was  his  own  fault,  as  the  Countess  Guiccioli, 
the  only  object  of  his  love,  had  all  the  qualities  to 
render  a  reasonable  being  happy.  In  speaking  of 
Allegra,  Byron  said  that  while  she  lived  her  existence 
never  seemed  necessary  to  his  happiness  ;  but  no 
sooner  did  he  lose  her  than  it  appeared  to  him  as 
though  he  could  not  exist  without  her.  It  is  note- 
worthy that,  one  evening,  while  Byron  was  speaking  to 
Lady  Blessington  at  her  hotel  at  Genoa,  he  pointed 
out  to  her  a  boat  at  anchor  in  the  harbour,  and  said  : 
*  That  is  the  boat  in  which  my  friend  Shelley  went 
down — the  sight  of  it  makes  me  ill.  You  should  have 
known  Shelley  to  feel  how  much  I  must  regret  him. 
He  was  the  most  gentle,  most  amiable,  and  least 
worldly-minded  person  I  ever  met ;  full  of  delicacy, 
disinterested  beyond  all  other  men,  and  possessing  a 
degree  of  genius,  joined  to  a  simplicity,  as  rare  as  it  is 
admirable.  He  had  formed  to  himself  a  beaii-ideal  of 
all  that  is  fine,  high-minded,  and  noble,  and  he  acted 
up  to  this  ideal  even  to  the  very  letter.  He  had  a 
most  brilliant  imagination,  but  a  total  want  of  worldly 
wisdom.  I  have  seen  nothing  like  him,  and  never 
shall  again,  I  am  certain.' 

We  may,  upon  the  evidence  before  us,  take  it  for 
certain  that  Byron  only  admired  two  of  his  contem- 
poraries— Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Shelley.  He  liked 
Hobhouse,  and  they  had  travelled  together  without 
a  serious  quarrel,  which  is  a  proof  of  friendship  ;  but 
he  felt  that  Hobhouse  undervalued  him,  and,  as 
Byron  had  a  good  deal  of  the  spoiled  child  about  him, 
he  resented  the  friendly  admonitions  which,  it  seems, 
Hobhouse  unsparingly  administered  whenever  they 
were  together.     Tom  Moore  was  a  '  croney ' — a  man 

3—2 


36      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

to  laugh  and  sit  through  the  night  with— but  there 
was  nothing,  either  in  his  genius  or  his  conduct, 
which  Byron  could  fall  down  and  worship,  as  he 
seemed  capable  of  doing  in  the  case  of  Shelley  and 
Scott. 

It  is  evident  that  Lady  Byron  occupied  his  thoughts 
continually  ;  he  constantly  mentioned  her  in  conversa- 
tion, and  often  spoke  of  the  brief  period  during  which 
they  lived  together.  He  told  Lady  Blessington  that, 
though  not  regularly  handh:ome,  he  liked  her  looks. 
He  said  that  when  he  reflected  on  the  whole  tenor 
of  her  conduct — the  refusing  any  explanation,  never 
answering  his  letters,  or  holding  out  any  hopes  that  in 
future  years  their  child  might  form  a  bond  of  union 
between  them — he  felt  exasperated  against  her,  and 
vented  this  feeling  in  his  writings.  The  mystery  of 
Lady  Byron's  silence  piqued  him  and  kept  alive  his 
interest  in  her.  It  was  evident  to  those  who  knew 
Byron  during  the  last  year  of  his  life  that  he  anxiously 
desired  a  reconciliation  with  her.  He  seemed  to  think 
that,  had  his  pecuniary  affairs  been  in  a  less  ruinous 
state,  his  temper  would  not  have  been  excited  as  it 
constantly  was,  during  the  brief  period  of  their  union, 
by  demands  of  insolent  creditors  whom  he  was  unable 
to  satisfy,  and  who  drove  him  nearly  out  of  his  senses, 
until  he  lost  all  command  of  himself,  and  so  forfeited 
his  wife's  affection.  Byron  felt  himself  to  blame  for 
such  conduct,  and  bitterly  repented  of  it.  But  he 
never  could  divest  himself  of  the  idea  that  his  wife 
still  took  a  deep  interest  in  him,  and  said  that  Ada 
must  always  be  a  bond  of  union  between  them,  though 
perchance  they  were  parted  for  ever. 

'  I  am  sure,'  said  Lady  Blessington,  *  that  if  ten 
nidividuals  undertook  the  task  of  describing   Byron, 


RELATIONS  WITH  COUNTESS  GUICCIOLI    37 

no  two  of  the  ten  would  agree  in  their  verdict  respect- 
ing him,  or  convey  any  portrait  that  resembled  the 
other,  and  yet  the  description  of  each  might  be  correct, 
according  to  individual  opinion.  The  truth  is,  that 
the  chameleon-like  character  or  manner  of  Byron 
renders  it  difficult  to  portray  him  ;  and  the  pleasure 
he  seems  to  take  in  misleading  his  associates  in  their 
estimation  of  him  increases  the  difficulty  of  the  task.' 

On  one  occasion  Byron  lifted  the  veil,  and  showed 
his  inmost  thoughts  by  words  which  were  carefully 
noted  at  the  time.  He  spoke  on  this  occasion  from 
the  depth  of  his  heart  as  follows  : 

*  Can  I  reflect  on  my  present  position  without  bitter 
feelings  ?  Exiled  from  my  country  by  a  species  of 
ostracism — the  most  humiliating  to  a  proud  mind, 
when  daggers  and  not  shells  were  used  to  ballot, 
inflicting  mental  wounds  more  deadly  and  difficult  to 
be  healed  than  all  that  the  body  could  suffer.  Then 
the  notoriety  that  follows  me  precludes  the  privacy  I 
desire,  and  renders  me  an  object  of  curiosity,  which  is 
a  continual  source  of  irritation  to  my  feelings.  I  am 
bound  by  the  indissoluble  ties  of  marriage  to  07ie  who 
will  not  live  with  me,  and  live  with  one  to  w^hom  I 
cannot  give  a  legal  right  to  be  my  companion,  and 
who,  wanting  that  right,  is  placed  in  a  position  humili- 
ating to  her  and  most  painful  to  me.  Were  the 
Countess  Guiccioli  and  I  married,  we  should,  I  am 
sure,  be  cited  as  an  examble  of  conjugal  happiness, 
and  the  domestic  and  retired  life  we  lead  would  entitle 
us  to  respect.  But  our  union,  wanting  the  legal  and 
religious  part  of  the  ceremony  of  marriage,  draws  on 
us  both  censure  and  blame.  She  is  formed  to  make  a 
good  wife  to  any  man  to  whom  she  attaches  herself. 
She  is  fond  of  retirement,  is  of  a  most  affectionate 
disposition,  and  noble-minded  and  disinterested  to  the 
highest  degree.  Judge  then  how  mortifying  it  must 
be  to  me  to  be  the  cause  of  placing  her  in  a  false 
position.  All  this  is  not  thought  of  when  people  are 
blinded  by  passion,  but  when  passion  is  replaced  by 
better  feelings — those  of  affection,  friendship,  and 
confidence — when,   in    short,   the    liaison    has    all    of 


38  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

marriage  but  its  forms,  then  it  is  that  we  wish  to  give 
it  the  respectability  of  wedlock.  I  feel  this  keenly, 
reckless  as  I  appear,  though  there  are  few  to  whom  I 
would  avow  it,  and  certainly  not  to  a  man.' 

There  is  much  in  this  statement  which  it  is  necessary 
for  those  who  wish  to  understand  Byron's  position  at 
the  close  of  his  life  to  bear  in  mind.  We  may  accept 
it  unreservedly,  for  it  coincides  in  every  particular 
with  conclusions  independently  arrived  at  by  the 
present  writer,  after  a  long  and  patient  study  of  all 
circumstances  relating  to  the  life  of  this  extra- 
ordinary man.  At  the  period  of  which  we  write — the 
last  phase  in  Byron's  brief  career — the  poet  was, 
morally,  ascending. 

His  character,  through  the  fire  of  suffering,  had 
been  purified.  Even  his  pride — so  assertive  in  public 
— had  been  humbled,  and  he  was  gradually  and  in- 
sensibly preparing  himself  for  a  higher  destiny,  un- 
concious  of  the  fact  that  the  hand  of  Death  was  upon 
him.  '  Wait,'  he  said,  '  and  you  will  see  me  one  day 
become  all  that  I  ought  to  be.  I  have  reflected 
seriously  on  all  my  faults,  and  that  is  the  first  step 
towards  amendment.' 


CHAPTER  IV 

Certain  it  is,  that  in  proportion  to  the  admiration 
which  Byron's  poetic  genius  excited,  was  the  severity 
of  the  censure  which  his  fellow-countrymen  bestowed 
on  his  defects  as  a  man.  The  humour  of  the  situation 
no  doubt  appealed  to  Byron's  acute  sense  of  propor- 
tion, and  induced  him  to  feed  the  calumnies  against 
himself,  by  painting  his  own  portrait  in  the  darkest 
colours.  Unfortunately,  the  effects  of  such  conduct 
long  survived  him ;  for  the  world  is  prone  to  take  a 
man  at  his  own  valuation,  and  *  hypocrisy  reversed  ' 
does  not  enter  into  human  calculations.  It  is  un- 
fortunate for  the  fame  of  Byron  that  his  whole  conduct 
after  the  separation  was  a  glaring  blunder,  for  which 
no  subsequent  act  of  his,  no  proof  of  his  genius,  could 
by  any  possibility  atone. 

Truth  told,  the  obloquy  which  Byron  had  to  endure, 
after  Lady  Byron  left  him,  was  such  as  might  well 
have  changed  his  whole  nature.  It  must  indeed  have 
been  galling  to  that  proud  spirit,  after  having  been 
humbly  asked  everywhere,  to  be  ostentatiously  asked 
nowhere.  The  injustice  he  suffered  at  the  hands  of 
those  who  were  fed  on  baseless  calumnies  raised  in  his 
breast  a  feeling  of  profound  contempt  for  his  fellow- 
creatures — a    contempt    which    led    him    into    many 

39 


40      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

follies;  thus,  instead  of  standing  up  against  the  storm 
and  meeting  his  detractors  face  to  face,  as  he  was  both 
capable  of  and  justified  in  doing,  he  chose  to  leave 
England  under  a  cloud,  and,  by  a  system  of  mystifica- 
tion, to  encourage  the  belief  that  he  thoroughly 
deserved  the  humiliation  which  had  been  cast  upon  him. 
As  a  consequence,  to  employ  the  words  of  Macaulay, 

'all  those  creeping  things  that  riot  in  the  decay  of 
nobler  natures  hastened  to  their  repast;  and  they 
were  right ;  they  did  after  their  kind.  It  is  not  every 
day  that  the  savage  envy  of  aspiring  dunces  is  grati- 
fied by  the  agonies  of  such  a  spirit,  and  the  degrada- 
tion of  such  a  name.' 

Lady  Blessington  tells  us  that  Byron  had  an 
excellent  heart,  but  that  it  was  running  to  waste  for 
want  of  being  allowed  to  expend  itself  on  his  fellow- 
creatures.  His  heart  teemed  with  affection,  but  his 
past  experiences  had  checked  its  course,  and  left  it  to 
prey  on  the  aching  void  in  his  breast.  He  could 
never  forget  his  sorrows,  which  in  a  certain  sense 
had  unhinged  his  mind,  and  caused  him  to  deny  to 
others  the  justice  that  had  been  denied  to  himself. 
He  affected  to  disbelieve  in  either  love  or  friendship, 
and  yet  was  capable  of  making  great  sacrifices  for 
both. 

'  He  has  an  unaccountable  passion  for  misrepresent- 
ing his  own  feelings  and  motives,  and  exaggerates  his 
defects  more  than  an  enemy  could  do ;  and  is  often 
angry  because  we  do  not  believe  all  he  says  against 
himself  If  Byron  were  not  a  great  poet,  the  char- 
latanism of  affecting  to  be  a  Satanic  character,  in  this 
our  matter-of-fact  nineteenth  century,  would  be  very 
amusing:  but  when  the  genius  of  the  man  is  taken 
into  account,  it  appears  too  ridiculous,  and  one  feels 
mortified  that  he  should  attempt  to  pass  for  some- 
thing that  all  who  know  him  rejoice  that  he  is  not.     If 


BYRON'S  CONTEMPT  FOR  LUXURIES    41 

Byron  knew  his  own  power,  he  would  disdain  such 
unworthy  means  of  attracting  attention,  and  trust  to 
his  merit  for  commanding  it.' 

As  Lady  Blessington  remarks  in  her  '  Conversations 
of  Lord  Byron,'  from  which  we  have  largely  quoted, 
Byron's  pre-eminence  as  a  poet  gives  an  interest  to 
details  which  otherwise  would  not  be  worth  mention- 
ing. She  tells  us,  for  instance,  that  one  of  the 
strongest  anomalies  in  Byron  was  the  exquisite  taste 
displayed  in  his  descriptive  poetry,  and  the  total  want 
of  it  that  was  so  apparent  in  his  modes  of  life. 

'  Fine  scenery  seemed  to  have  no  effect  upon  him, 
though  his  descriptions  are  so  glowing,  and  the 
elegancies  and  comforts  of  refined  life  Byron  appeared 
to  as  little  understand  as  value.' 

Byron  appeared  to  be  wholly  ignorant  of  what  in 
his  class  of  life  constituted  its  ordinary  luxuries. 

*  I  have  seen  him,'  says  Lady  Blessington,  '  ap- 
parently delighted  with  the  luxurious  inventions  in 
furniture,  equipages,  plate,  etc.,  common  to  all  persons 
of  a  certain  station  or  fortune,  and  yet  after  an  inquiry 
as  to  their  prices^an  inquiry  so  seldom  made  by 
persons  of  his  rank — shrink  back  alarmed  at  the 
thought  of  the  expense,  though  there  was  nothing 
alarming  in  it,  and  congratulate  himself  that  he  had 
no  such  luxuries,  or  did  not  require  them.  I  should 
say  that  a  bad  and  vulgar  taste  predominated  in  all 
Byron's  equipments,  whether  in  dress  or  in  furniture. 
I  saw  his  bed  at  Genoa,  when  I  passed  through  in 
1826,  and  it  certainly  was  the  most  vulgarly  gaudy 
thing  I  ever  saw ;  the  curtains  in  the  worst  taste,  and 
the  cornice  having  his  family  motto  of  "  Crede  Byron  " 
surmounted  by  baronial  coronets.  His  carriages  and 
his  liveries  were  in  the  same  bad  taste,  having  an 
affectation  of  finery,  but  fnesquin  in  the  details,  and 
tawdry  in  the  ensemble.  It  was  evident  that  he  piqued 
himself  on  them,  by  the  complacency  with  which  they 
were  referred  to.' 


42  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

In  one  of  Byron's  expansive  moods— and  these  were 
rare  with  men,  though  frequent  in  the  society  of  Lady 
Blessington— Byron,  speaking  of  his  wife,  said  : 

'  I  am  certain  that  Lady  Byron's  first  idea  is,  what 
is  due  to  herself;  I  mean  that  it  is  the  undeviating 
rule  of  her  conduct.  I  wish  she  had  thought  a  little 
more  of  what  is  due  to  others.  Now,  my  besetting  sin 
is  a  want  of  that  self-respect  which  she  has  in  excess  ; 
and  that  want  has  produced  much  unhappiness  to  us 
both.  But  though  I  accuse  Lady  Byron  of  an  excess 
of  self-respect,  I  must  in  candour  admit,  that  if  any 
person  ever  had  an  excuse  for  an  extraordinary 
portion  of  it,  she  has ;  as  in  all  her  thoughts,  words, 
and  deeds,  she  is  the  most  decorous  woman  that  ever 
existed,  and  must  appear  a  perfect  and  refined  gentle- 
woman even  to  her  femme-de-chamhre.  This  extra- 
ordinary degree  of  self-command  in  Lady  Byron 
produced  an  opposite  eff'ect  on  me.  When  I  have 
broken  out,  on  slight  provocations,  into  one  of  my 
ungovernable  fits  of  rage,  her  calmness  piqued,  and 
seemed  to  reproach  me  ;  it  gave  her  an  air  of  superi- 
ority, that  vexed  and  increased  my  wrath.  I  am  now 
older  and  wiser,  and  should  know  how  to  appreciate 
her  conduct  as  it  deserved,  as  I  look  on  self-command 
as  a  positive  virtue,  though  it  is  one  I  have  not  the 
courage  to  adopt' 

In  speaking  of  his  sister,  shortly  before  his  de- 
parture for  Greece,  Byron  maintained  that  he  owed 
the  little  good  which  he  could  boast,  to  her  influence 
over  his  wayward  nature.  He  regretted  that  he  had 
not  known  her  earlier,  as  it  might  have  influenced  his 
destiny. 

*  To  me  she  was,  in  the  hour  of  need,  as  a  tower 
of  strength.  Her  affection  was  my  last  rallying  point, 
and  is  now  the  only  bright  spot  that  the  horizon  of 
England  offers  to  my  view.'  'Augusta,'  said  Byron, 
'  knew  all  my  weaknesses,  but  she  had  love  enough  to 
bear  with  them.  She  has  given  me  such  good  advice, 
and  yet,  finding  me  incapable  of  following  it,  loved 


A  PROPHECY  FULFILLED  43 

and  pitied  me  the  more,  because  I  was  erring.     This 
is  true  affection,  and,  above  all,  true  Christian  feeling.' 

But  we  should  not  be  writing  about  Byron  and  his 
foibles  eighty-four  years  after  his  death,  if  he  had  not 
been  wholly  different  to  other  men  in  his  views  of  life. 
Shortly  after  his  marriage,  for  no  sufficient,  or  at  least 
for  no  apparent  reason,  Byron  chose  to  immolate  him- 
self, and  took  a  sort  of  Tarpeian  leap,  passing  the 
remainder  of  his  existence  in  bemoaning  his  bruises, 
and  reviling  the  spectators  who  were  not  responsible 
for  his  fall.  One  of  the  main  results  of  this  conduct 
was  his  separation  from  his  child,  for  whom  he  seems 
to  have  felt  the  deepest  affection.  We  find  him,  at  the 
close  of  his  life,  constantly  speaking  of  Ada,  *  sole 
daughter  of  his  heart  and  house,'  and  prophesying  the 
advent  of  a  love  whose  consolations  he  could  never 
feel. 

'  I  often,  in  imagination,  pass  over  a  long  lapse  of 
years,'  said  Byron,  '  and  console  myself  for  present 
privations,  in  anticipating  the  time  when  my  daughter 
will  know  me  by  reading  my  works ;  for,  though  the 
hand  of  prejudice  may  conceal  my  portrait  from  her 
eyes,*  it  cannot  hereafter  conceal  my  thoughts  and 
feelings,  which  will  talk  to  her  when  he  to  whom  they 
belonged  has  ceased  to  exist.  The  triumph  will  then 
be  mine ;  and  the  tears  that  my  child  will  drop  over 
expressions  wrung  from  me  by  mental  agony — the 
certainty  that  she  will  enter  into  the  sentiments  which 
dictated  the  various  allusions  to  her  and  to  myself  in 
my  works — consoles  me  in  many  a  gloomy  hour.' 

This  prophecy  was  amply  fulfilled.  It  appears  that, 
after  Ada's  marriage  to  Lord  King,  Colonel  Wildman 

*  Lady  Noel  left  by  her  will  to  the  trustees  a  portrait  of  Byron, 
with  directions  that  it  was  not  to  be  shown  to  his  daughter  Ada  till 
she  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one  ;  but  that  if  her  mother  were  still 
living,  it  was  not  to  be  so  delivered  without  Lady  Byron's  consent. 


44  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

met  her  in  London,  and  invited  her  to  pay  him  a  visit 
at  Newstead  Abbey.  One  morning,  while  Ada  was  in 
the  library,  Colonel  Wildman  took  down  a  book  of 
poems.  Ada  asked  the  name  of  the  author  of  these 
poems,  and  when  shown  the  portrait  of  her  father — 
Phillips's  well-known  portrait — which  hung  upon  the 
wall,  Ada  remained  for  a  moment  spell-bound,  and  then 
remarked  ingenuously :  '  Please  do  not  think  that  it  is 
affectation  on  my  part  when  I  declare  to  you  that  I 
have  been  brought  up  in  complete  ignorance  of  all 
that  concerns  my  father.'  Never  until  that  moment 
had  Ada  seen  the  handwriting  of  her  father,  and,  as  we 
know,  even  his  portrait  had  been  hidden  from  her. 
When  Byron's  genius  was  revealed  to  his  daughter, 
an  enthusiasm  for  his  memory  filled  her  soul.  She 
shut  herself  up  for  hours  in  the  rooms  which  Byron 
had  used,  absorbed  in  all  the  glory  of  one  whose 
tenderness  for  her  had  been  so  sedulously  concealed 
by  her  mother.  On  her  death-bed  she  dictated  a  letter 
to  Colonel  Wildman,  begging  that  she  might  be  buried 
at  Hucknall-Torkard,  in  the  same  vault  as  her  illus- 
trious father.  And  there  they  sleep  the  long  sleep 
side  by  side— separated  during  life,  united  in  death — 
the  prophecy  of  i8r6  fulfilled  in  1852  : 

'  Yet,  though  dull  Hate  as  duty  should  be  taught, 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  love  me  ;  though  my  name 
Should  be  shut  from  thee,  as  a  spell  still  fraught 
With  desolation,  and  a  broken  claim  : 
Though  the  grave  closed  between  us,— 'twere  the  same, 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  love  me  ;  though  to  drain 
My  blood  from  out  thy  being  were  an  aim 
And  an  attainment, — all  would  be  in  vain,— 
Still  thou  wouldst  love  me,  still  that  more  than  life  retain. 


CHAPTER  V 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Byron  had  a  craving  for 
celebrity  in  one  form  or  another.  In  the  last  year  of 
his  life  his  thoughts  turned  with  something  like  apathy 
from  the  fame  which  his  pen  had  brought  him*  towards 
that  wider  and  nobler  fame  which  might  be  attained 
by  the  sword.  In  the  spirit  of  an  exalted  poet  who 
has  lately  passed  from  us,  if  such  prescience  were 
possible,  Byron  might  have  applied  these  stirring  lines 
to  himself: 

'  Up,  then,  and  act !     Rise  up  and  undertake 
The  duties  of  to-day.     Thy  courage  wake  ! 
Spend  not  Hfe's  strength  in  idleness,  for  life 
Should  not  be  wasted  in  Care's  useless  strife. 
No  slothful  doubt  let  work's  place  occupy, 
But  labour  !     Labour  for  posterity  ! 

'  Up,  then,  and  sing  !     Rise  up  and  bare  the  sword 
With  which  to  combat  suffering  and  wrong. 
Console  all  those  that  suffer  with  thy  word. 
Defend  Man's  heritage  with  sword  and  song  ! 
Combat  intrigue,  injustice,  tyranny, 
And  in  thine  efforts  God  will  be  with  thee.' 

'  I  have  made  as  many  sacrifices  to  liberty,'  said 
Byron,  *  as  most  people  of  my  age ;  and  the  one  I  am 
about  to  undertake  is  not  the  least,  though  probably 

*  It  was  at  this  time  that  Byron  endeavoured  to  suppress  the  fact 
that  he  had  written  '  The  Age  of  Bronze.' 

45 


46      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

it  will  be  the  last ;  for  with  my  broken  health,  and  the 
chances  of  war,  Greece  will  most  likely  terminate  my 
career.  I  like  Italy,  its  climate,  its  customs,  and,  above 
all,  its  freedom  from  cant  of  every  kind ;  therefore  it  is 
no  slight  sacrifice  of  comfort  to  give  up  the  tranquil 
life  I  lead  here,  and  break  through  the  ties  I  have 
formed,  to  engage  in  a  cause,  for  the  successful  result 
of  which  I  have  no  very  sanguine  hopes.  I  have  a 
presentiment  that  I  shall  die  in  Greece.  I  hope  it  may 
be  in  action,  for  that  would  be  a  good  finish  to  a  very 
/m^t?  existence,  and  I  have  a  horror  of  death-bed  scenes  ; 
but  as  I  have  not  been  famous  for  my  luck  in  life,  most 
probably  I  shall  not  have  more  in  the  manner  of  my 
death.' 


It  was  towards  the  close  of  May,  1823,  that  Byron 
received  a  letter  telling  him  that  he  had  been  elected 
a  member  of  the  Committee  which  sat  in  London  to 
further  the  Greek  cause.  B^'-ron  willingly  accepted 
the  appointment,  and  from  that  moment  turned  his 
thoughts  towards  Greece,  without  exactly  knowing  in 
what  manner  he  could  best  serve  her  cause.  He 
experienced  alternations  of  confidence  and  despon- 
dency certainly,  but  he  never  abandoned  the  notion 
that  he  might  be  of  use,  if  only  he  could  see  his  way 
clearly  through  the  conflicting  opinions  and  advice 
which  reached  him  from  all  sides. 

The  presentiment  that  he  would  end  his  daj^s 
in  Greece,  weighed  so  heavily  on  his  mind,  that 
he  felt  a  most  intense  desire  to  revisit  his  native 
country  before  finally  throwing  in  his  lot  with 
the  Greeks.  He  seems  to  have  vaguely  felt  that 
all  chances  of  reconciliation  with  Lady  Byron  were 
not  dead.  He  would  have  liked  to  say  farewell  to  her 
without  bitterness,  and  he  longed  to  embrace  his  child. 
But  the  objections  to  a  return  to  England  were  so 
formidable  that  he  was  compelled  to  abandon  the  idea. 


BYRON  EMBARKS  FOR  GREECE  47 

His  proud  nature  could  not  face  the  chance  of  a  cold 
reception,  and  a  revival  of  that  roar  of  calumny  which 
had  driven  him  from  our  shores.  He  told  Lady 
Blessington  that  he  could  laugh  at  those  attacks  with 
the  sea  between  him  and  his  traducers ;  but  that  on 
the  spot,  and  feeling-  the  effect  which  each  libel  pro- 
duced upon  the  minds  of  his  too  sensitive  friends,  he 
could  not  stand  the  strain.  Byron  felt  sure  that  his 
enemies  would  misinterpret  his  motives,  and  that  no 
good  would  come  of  it. 

After  Byron  had  made  up  his  mind  to  visit  Greece 
in  person,  he  does  not  appear  ever  to  have  seriousl}'' 
thought  of  drawing  back.  On  June  15,  1823,  he 
informed  Trelawny,  who  was  at  Rome,  that  he  was 
determined  to  go  to  Greece,  and  asked  him  to  join  the 
expedition.  Seven  days  later  Byron  had  hired  a 
vessel  to  transport  himself,  his  companions,  his 
servants,  and  his  horses,  to  Cephalonia, 

On  July  13,  Byron,  with  Edward  Trelawny, 
Count  Pietro  Gamba,  and  a  young  medical  student,* 
with  eight  servants,  embarked  at  Genoa  on  the  English 
brig  Hercules^  commanded  by  Captain  Scott.  At 
the  last  moment  a  passage  was  offered  to  a  Greek 
named  Schilitzy,  and  to  Mr.  Hamilton  Browne. 
Gamba  tells  us  that  five  horses  were  shipped,  besides 
arms,  ammunition,  and  two  one-pounder  guns  which 
had  belonged  to  The  Bolivar.  Byron  carried  with 
him  10,000  Spanish  dollars  in  ready-money,  with 
bills  of  exchange  for  40,000  more. 

Passing  within  sight  of  Elba,  Corsica,  the  Lipari 
Islands  (including  Stromboli,)  Sicily,  Italy,  etc.,  on 
August  2,  the  Hercules  lay  between  Zante  and  Cepha- 
lonia ;  and  the  next  day  she  cast  anchor  in  Argostoli, 

*  Dr.  Bruno. 


48  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

the  principal  port  of  Cephalonia.  The  Resident, 
Colonel  Napier,  was  at  that  time  absent  from  the 
island.  Shortly  after  Byron's  arrival,  Captain  Kennedy, 
Colonel  Napier's  secretary,  came  on  board,  and  in- 
formed him  that  little  was  known  of  the  internal 
affairs  of  Greece.  The  Turks  appeared  to  have  been 
in  force  at  sea,  while  the  Greeks  remained  inactive  at 
Hydra,  Spezia,  and  Ipsara.  It  was  supposed  that 
Mr.  Blaquiere  had  gone  to  Corfu,  while  the  famous 
Marco  Botzari,  to  whom  Byron  had  been  especially 
recommended,  was  at  Missolonghi.  Before  taking  any 
definite  step,  Byron  judged  it  best  to  send  messengers 
to  Corfu  and  Missolonghi,  to  collect  information  as  to 
the  state  of  affairs  in  the  Morea.  To  pass  the  time, 
Byron  and  some  of  his  companions  made  an  excur- 
sion to  Ithaca.  The  first  opportunity  of  showing  his 
sympathy  towards  the  victims  of  barbarism  and 
tyranny  occurred  at  this  period.  Many  poor  families 
had  taken  refuge  at  Ithaca,  from  Scio,  Patras,  and 
other  parts  of  Greece.  Byron  handed  3,000  piastres 
to  the  Commandant  for  their  relief,  and  transported  a 
family,  in  absolute  poverty,  to  Cephalonia,  where  he 
provided  them  with  a  house  and  gave  them  a  monthly 
allowance. 

The  following  narrative,  written  by  a  gentleman 
who  was  travelling  in  Ithaca  at  that  time,  seems  to  be 
worthy  of  reproduction  in  these  pages  : 

'It  was  in  the  island  of  Ithaca,  in  the  month  of 
August,  1823,  that  I  was  shown  into  the  dining-room 
of  the  Resident  Governor,  where  Lord  Byron,  Count 
Gamba,  Dr.  Bruno,  Mr.  Trelawny,  and  Mr.  Hamilton 
Browne,  were  seated  after  dinner,  with  some  of  the 
English  officers  and  principal  inhabitants  of  the  place, 
I  had  been  informed  of  Lord  Byron's  presence,  but 
had  no  means  of  finding  him  out,  except  by  recollec- 


BYRON  BECOMES  COMMUNICATIVE     49 

tion  of  his  portraits ;  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess 
that  I  was  puzzled,  in  my  examination  of  the  various 
countenances  before  me,  where  to  fix  upon  "the  man." 
I  at  one  time  almost  settled  upon  Trelawny,  from  the 
interest  which  he  seemed  to  take  in  the  schooner  in 
which  I  had  just  arrived  ;  but  on  ascending  to  the 
drawing-room  I  was  most  agreeably  undeceived  by 
finding  myself  close  to  the  side  of  the  great  object 
of  my  curiosity,  and  engaged  in  easy  conversation 
with  him,  without  presentation  or  introduction  of  any 
kind. 

'  He  was  handling  and  remarking  upon  the  books  in 
some  small  open  shelves,  and  fairly  spoke  to  me  in 
such  a  manner  that  not  to  have  replied  would  have 
been  boorish.  "'Pope's  Homer's  Odyssey' — hum! — 
that  is  well  placed  here,  undoubtedly ;  *  Hume's 
Essays,' — '  Tales  of  my  Landlord  ;'  there  you  are, 
Watty!  Are  you  recently  from  England,  sir?"  I 
answered  that  I  had  not  been  there  for  two  years. 
"  Then  you  can  bring  us  no  news  of  the  Greek  Com- 
mittee ?  Here  we  are  all  waiting  orders,  and  no 
orders  seem  likely  to  come.  Ha!  ha!"  "I  have  not 
changed  my  opinion  of  the  Greeks,"  he  said.  "  I  know 
them  as  well  as  most  people"  (a  favourite  phrase), 
"  but  we  must  not  look  always  too  closely  at  the  men 
who  are  to  benefit  by  our  exertions  in  a  good  cause, 
or  God  knows  we  shall  seldom  do  much  good  in  this 
world.  There  is  Trelawny  thinks  he  has  fallen  in 
with  an  angel  in  Prince  Mavrocordato,  and  little 
Bruno  would  willingly  sacrifice  his  life  for  the  cause, 
as  he  calls  it.  I  must  say  he  has  shown  some  sincerity 
in  his  devotion,  in  consenting  to  join  it  for  the  little 
matter  he  makes  of  me."  I  ventured  to  say  that,  in 
all  probability,  the  being  joined  with  him  in  any  cause 
was  inducement  enough  for  any  man  of  moderate 
pretensions.  He  noticed  the  compliment  only  by  an 
indifferent  smile.  "  I  find  but  one  opinion,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  among  all  people  whom  I  have  met  since  I 
came  here,  that  no  good  is  to  be  done  for  these  rascally 
Greeks ;  that  I  am  sure  to  be  deceived,  disgusted,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  It  may  be  so  ;  but  it  is  chiefly  to 
satisfy  myself  upon  these  very  points  that  I  am  going. 
I  go  prepared  for  anything,  expecting  a  deal  of  roguery 
and  imposition,  but  hoping  to  do  some  good." 

4 


50      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

'"Have  you  read  any  of  the  late  publications  on 
Greece  ?"  I  asked. 

* "  I  never  read  any  accounts  of  a  country  to  which 
I  can  myself  go,"  said  he.  "  The  Committee  have  sent 
me  some  of  their  '  Crown  and  Anchor '  reports,  but 
I  can  make  nothing  of  them." 

'The  conversation  continued  in  the  same  familiar 
flow.  To  my  increased  amazement,  he  led  it  to  his 
works,  to  Lady  Byron,  and  to  his  daughter.  The 
former  was  suggested  by  a  volume  of  "  Childe  Harold  " 
which  was  on  the  table ;  it  was  the  ugly  square  little 
German  edition,  and  I  made  free  to  characterize  it  as 
execrable.     He  turned  over  the  leaves,  and  said  : 

'  Yes,  it  was  very  bad ;  but  it  was  better  than  one 
that  he  had  seen  in  French  prose  in  Switzerland.  "  I 
know  not  what  my  friend  Mr.  Murray  will  say  to  it  all. 
Kinnaird  writes  to  me  that  he  is  wroth  about  many 
things  ;  let  them  do  what  they  like  with  the  book — 
they  have  been  abusive  enough  of  the  author.  The 
Quarterly  is  trying  to  make  amends,  however,  and 
Blackwood's  people  will  suffer  none  to  attack  me  but 
themselves.  Milman  was,  1  believe,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  personalities,  but  they  all  sink  before  an  American 
reviewer,  who  describes  me  as  a  kind  of  fiend,  and 
says  that  the  deformities  of  my  mind  are  only  to  be 
equalled  by  those  of  my  body ;  it  is  well  that  anyone 
can  see  them,  at  least."  Our  hostess,  Mrs.  Knox, 
advanced  to  us  about  this  moment,  and  his  lordship 
continued,  smiling:  "  Does  not  your  Gordon  blood  rise 
at  such  abuse  of  a  clansman  ?  The  gallant  Gordons 
'  bruik  nae  slight.'  Are  you  true  to  your  name, 
Mrs.  Knox  ?"  The  lady  was  loud  in  her  reprobation  of 
the  atrocious  abuse  that  had  recently  been  heaped 
upon  the  noble  lord,  and  joined  in  his  assumed 
clannish  regard  for  their  mutual  name.  "  Lady  Byron 
and  you  would  agree,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  though  I 
could  not,  you  are  thinking ;  you  may  say  so,  I  assure 
you.  I  dare  say  it  will  turn  out  that  I  have  been 
terribly  in  the  wrong,  but  I  always  want  to  know  what 
I  did.''  I  had  not  courage  to  touch  upon  this  delicate 
topic,  and  Mrs.  Knox  seemed  to  wish  it  passed  over  till 
a  less  public  occasion.  He  spoke  of  Ada  exactly  as 
any  parent  might  have  done  of  a  beloved  absent  child, 
and  betrayed  not  the  slightest  confusion,  or  conscious- 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  ARETHUSA  51 

ness  of  a  sore  subject,  throughout  the  whole  conversa- 
tion. 

'  I  now  learnt  from  him  that  he  had  arrived  in  the 
island  from  Cephalonia  onl}^  that  morning,  and  that  it 
was  his  purpose  (as  it  was  mine)  to  visit  its  antiquities 
and  localities.  A  ride  to  the  Fountain  of  Arethusa 
had  been  planned  for  the  next  day,  and  I  had  the 
happiness  of  being  invited  to  join  it.  Pope's  "  Homer  " 
was  taken  up  for  a  description  of  the  place,  and  it  led 
to  the  following  remarks : 

**  Yes,  the  very  best  translation  that  ever  was,  or 
ever  will  be  ;  there  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  world,  be 
assured.  It  is  quite  delightful  to  find  Pope's  character 
coming  round  again ;  I  forgive  Gifford  everything  for 
that.  Puritan  as  he  is,  he  has  too  much  good  sense 
not  to  know  that,  even  if  all  the  lies  about  Pope  were 
truths,  his  character  is  one  of  the  best  among  literary 
men.  There  is  nobody  now  like  him,  except  Watty,* 
and  he  is  as  nearly  faultless  as  ever  human  being 
was." 

*  The  remainder  of  the  evening  was  passed  in 
arranging  the  plan  of  proceeding  on  the  morrow's 
excursion,  in  the  course  of  which  his  lordship 
occasionally  interjected  a  facetious  remark  of  some 
general  nature ;  but  in  such  fascinating  tones,  and 
with  such  a  degree  of  amiability  and  familiarity,  that, 
of  all  the  libels  of  which  I  well  knew  the  public  press 
to  be  guilty,  that  of  describing  Lord  Byron  as  in- 
accessible, morose,  and  repulsive  in  manner  and 
language,  seemed  to  me  the  most  false  and  atrocious. 
I  found  I  was  to  be  accommodated  for  the  night 
under  the  same  roof  with  his  lordship,  and  I  retired, 
satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that  favouring  chance  had 
that  day  made  me  the  intimate  (almost  confidential) 
friend  of  the  greatest  literary  man  of  modern  times. 

'  The  next  morning,  about  nine  o'clock,  the  party  for 
the  Fountain  of  Arethusa  assembled  in  the  parlour  of 
Captain  Knox;  but  Lord  Byron  was  missing.  Trelawny, 
who  had  slept  in  the  room  adjoining  his  lordship's, 
told  us  that  he  feared  he  had  been  ill  during  the  night, 
but  that  he  had  gone  out  in  a  boat  very  early  in  the 
morning.  At  this  moment  I  happened  to  be  standing 
at  the  window,  and  saw  the  object  of  our  anxiety  in 

*  Byron's  sobriquet  for  Walter  Scott. 

4—2 


52      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

the  act  of  landing  on  the  beach,  about  ten  or  a  dozen 
yards  from  the  house,  to  which  he  walked  slo\yly  up. 
I  never  saw  and  could  not  conceive  the  possibility  of 
such  a  change  in  the  appearance  of  a  human  being  as 
had  taken  place  since  the  previous  night.  He  looked 
like  a  man  under  sentence  of  death,  or  returning  from 
the  funeral  of  all  that  he  held  dear  on  earth.  His 
person  seemed  shrunk,  his  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes 
languid  and  fixed  on  the  ground.  He  was  leaning 
upon  a  stick,  and  had  changed  his  dark  camlet-caped 
surtout  of  the  preceding  evening  for  a  nankeen 
jacket  embroidered  like  a  hussar's— an  attempt  at 
dandyism,  or  dash,  to  which  the  look  and  demeanour 
of  the  wearer  formed  a  sad  contrast.  On  entering  the 
room,  his  lordship  made  the  usual  salutations  ;  and, 
after  some  preliminary  arrangements,  the  party  moved 
off,  on  horses  and  mules,  to  the  place  of  destination 
for  the  day. 

'  I  was  so  struck  with  the  difference  of  appearance  in 
Lord  Byron  that  the  determination  to  which  I  had 
come,  to  try  to  monopolize  him,  if  possible,  to  myself, 
without  regard  to  appearances  or  bienseance,  almost 
entirely  gave  way  under  the  terror  of  a  freezing 
repulse.  I  advanced  to  him  under  the  influence  of 
this  feeling,  but  I  had  scarcely  received  his  answer 
when  all  uneasiness  about  my  reception  vanished,  and 
I  stuck  as  close  to  him  as  the  road  permitted  our 
animals  to  go.  His  voice  sounded  timidly  and  quiver- 
ingly  at  first ;  but  as  the  conversation  proceeded, 
it  became  steady  and  firm.  The  beautiful  country 
in  which  we  were  travelling  naturally  formed  a 
prominent  topic,  as  well  as  the  character  of  the 
people  and  of  the  Government.  Of  the  latter,  I  found 
him  (to  my  amazement)  an  admirer.  "There  is  a  deal 
of  fine  stuff  about  that  old  Maitland,"  he  said;  "he 
knows  the  Greeks  well.  Do  you  know  if  it  be  true 
that  he  ordered  one  of  their  brigs  to  be  blown  out  of 
the  water  if  she  stayed  ten  minutes  longer  in  Corfu 
Roads  ?"  I  happened  to  know,  and  told  him  that  it 
was  true.  "  Well,  of  all  follies,  that  of  daring  to  say 
what  one  cannot  dare  to  do  is  the  least  to  be  pitied. 
Do  you  think  Sir  Tom  would  have  really  executed 
his  threat  ?"  I  told  his  lordship  that  I  believed  he 
certainly  would,  and  that  this  knowledge  of  his  being 


AUTHORSHIP  OF  'WAVERLEY  NOVELS'     53 

in  earnest  in  everything  he  said  was  the  cause,  not 
only  of  the  quiet  termination  of  that  affair,  but  of  the 
order  and  subordination  in  the  whole  of  the  countries 
under  his  government. 

*  The  conversation  again  insensibly  reverted  to  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  and  Lord  Byron  repeated  to  me  the 
anecdote  of  the  interview  in  Murray's  shop,  as  con- 
clusive evidence  of  his  being  the  author  of  the 
**  Waverley  Novels."  He  was  a  little  but  not  durably 
staggered  by  the  equally  well-known  anecdote  of  Sir 
Walter  having,  with  some  solemnity,  denied  the 
authorship  to  Mr.  Wilson  Croker,  in  the  presence  of 
George  IV.,  the  Duke  of  York,  and  the  late  Lord 
Canterbury.  He  agreed  that  an  author  wishing  to 
conceal  his  authorship  had  a  right  to  give  any  answer 
whatever  that  succeeded  in  convincing  an  inquirer  that 
he  was  wrong  in  his  suppositions. 

*  When  we  came  within  sight  of  the  object  of  our 
excursion,  there  happened  to  be  an  old  shepherd  in 
the  act  of  coming  down  from  the  fountain.  His  lord- 
ship at  once  fixed  upon  him  for  Eumseus,  and  invited 
him  back  with  us  to  "fill  up  the  picture."  Having 
drunk  of  the  fountain,  and  eaten  of  our  less  classical 
repast  of  cold  fowls,  etc.,  his  lordship  again  became 
lively,  and  full  of  pleasant  conceits.  To  detail  the 
conversation  (which  was  general  and  varied  as  the 
individuals  that  partook  of  it)  is  now  impossible,  and 
certainly  not  desirable  if  it  were  possible.  I  wish  to 
observe,  however,  that  on  this  and  one  very  similar 
occasion,  it  was  very  unlike  the  kind  of  conversation 
which  Lord  Byron  is  described  as  holding  with  various 
individuals  who  have  written  about  him.  Still  more 
unlike  was  it  to  what  one  would  have  supposed  his 
conversation  to  be ;  it  was  exactly  that  of  nine-tenths 
of  the  cultivated  class  of  English  gentlemen,  careless 
and  unconscious  of  everything  but  the  present  moment. 
Lord  Byron  ceased  to  be  more  than  one  of  the  party, 
and  stood  some  sharp  jokes,  practical  and  verbal,  with 
more  good  nature  than  would  have  done  many  of  the 
ciphers  whom  one  is  doomed  to  tolerate  in  society. 

'  We  returned  as  we  went,  but  no  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself  of  introducing  any  subject  of  interest 
beyond  that  of  the  place  and  time.  His  lordship 
seemed  quite  restored  by  the  excursion,  and  in  the 


54  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

evening  came  to  the  Resident's,  bearing  himself 
towards  everybody  in  the  same  easy,  gentlemanly 
way  that  rendered  him  the  delight  and  ornament  of 
every  society  in  which  he  chose  to  unbend  himself 

'The  Resident  was  as  absolute  a  monarch  as  Ulysses, 
and  I  dare  say  much  more  hospitable  and  obliging. 
He  found  quarters  for  the  whole  Anglo-Italian  party, 
in  the  best  houses  of  the  town,  and  received  them  on 
the  following  morning  at  the  most  luxurious  of  break- 
fasts, consisting,  among  other  native  productions,  of 
fresh-gathered  grapes,  just  ripened,  but  which  were 
pronounced  of  some  danger  to  be  eaten,  as  not  having 
had  the  "  first  rain."  This  is  worthy  of  note,  as  having 
been  apparently  a  ground  of  their  being  taken  by  Lord 
Byron  in  preference  to  the  riper  and  safer  figs  and 
nectarines ;  but  he  deemed  it  a  fair  reason  for  an 
apology  to  the  worthy  doctor  of  the  8th  Regiment 
(Dr.  Scott),  who  had  cautioned  the  company  against 
the  fruit. 

'"  I  take  them,  doctor,"  said  his  lordship,  "  as  I  take 
other  prohibited  things — in  order  to  accustom  myself 
to  any  and  all  things  that  a  man  may  be  compelled  to 
take  where  I  am  going — in  the  same  way  that  I  abstain 
from  all  superfluities,  even  salt  to  my  eggs  or  butter 
to  my  bread  ;  and  I  take  tea,  Mrs.  Knox,  without  sugar 
or  cream.  But  tea  itself  is,  really,  the  most  super- 
fluous of  superfluities,  though  I  am  never  without  it." 

*  I  heard  these  observations  as  they  were  made  to 
Dr.  Scott,  next  to  whom  I  was  sitting,  towards  the  end 
of  the  table;  but  I  could  not  hear  the  animated  con- 
versation that  was  going  on  between  his  lordship 
and  Mrs.  Knox,  beyond  the  occasional  mention  of 
"  Penelope,"  and,  when  one  of  her  children  came  in  to 
her,  "  Telemachus  "—names  too  obviously  a  propos  of 
the  place  and  persons  to  be  omitted  in  any  incidental 
conversation  in  Ithaca. 

•The  excursion  to  the  "School  of  Homer"  (why  so 
called  nobody  seemed  to  know)  was  to  be  made  by 
water;  and  the  party  of  the  preceding  day,  except  the 
lady,  embarked  in  an  elegant  country  boat  with  four 
rowers,  and  sundry  packages  and  jars  of  eatables  and 
drmkables.  As  soon  as  we  were  seated  under  the 
awnmg— Lord  Byron  in  the  centre  seat,  with  his  face 
to  the  stern— Trelawny  took  charge  of  the  tiller.     The 


DAVID  HUME'S  ESSAYS  55 

other  passengers  being  seated  on  the  side,  the  usual 
small  ilying  general  conversation  began.  Lord  Byron 
seemed  in  a  mood  calculated  to  make  the  company 
think  he  meant  something  more  formal  than  ordinary 
talk.  Of  course  there  could  not  be  anything  said  in 
the  nature  of  a  dialogue,  which,  to  be  honest,  was  the 
kind  of  conversation  that  I  had  at  heart.  He  began 
by  informing  us  that  he  had  just  been  reading,  with 
renewed  pleasure,  David  Hume's  Essays.  He  con- 
sidered Hume  to  be  by  far  the  most  profound  thinker 
and  clearest  reasoner  of  the  many  philosophers  and 
metaphysicians  of  the  last  century.  "  There  is,"  said 
he,  "no  refuting  him,  and  for  simplicity  and  clearness 
of  style  he  is  unmatched,  and  is  utterly  unanswer- 
able." He  referred  particularly  to  the  Essay  on 
Miracles.  It  was  remarked  to  him,  that  it  had 
nevertheless  been  specifically  answered,  and,  some 
people  thought,  refuted,  by  a  Presbyterian  divine, 
Dr.  Campbell  of  Aberdeen.  I  could  not  hear  whether 
his  lordship  knew  of  the  author,  but  the  remark  did 
not  affect  his  opinion ;  it  merely  turned  the  conversa- 
tion to  Aberdeen  and  "poor  John  Scott,"  the  most 
promising  and  most  unfortunate  literary  man  of  the 
day,  whom  he  knew  well,  and  who,  said  he,  knew  him 
(Lord  Byron)  as  a  schoolboy.  Scotland,  Walter  Scott 
(or,  as  his  lordship  always  called  him,  "Watty"),  the 
"  Waverley  Novels,"  the  "  Rejected  Addresses,"  and 
the  English  aristocracy  (which  he  reviled  most  bitterly), 
were  the  prominent  objects  of  nearly  an  hour's  con- 
versation. It  was  varied,  towards  the  end  of  the 
voyage,  in  this  original  fashion  :  "  But  come,  gentle- 
men, we  must  have  some  inspiration.  Here,  Tita, 
I'Hippocrena !" 

'This  brought  from  the  bows  of  the  boat  a  huge 
Venetian  gondolier,  with  a  musket  slung  diagonally 
across  his  back,  a  stone  jar  of  two  gallons  of  what 
turned  out  to  be  English  gin,  another  porous  one  of 
water,  and  a  quart  pitcher,  into  which  the  gondolier 
poured  the  spirit,  and  laid  the  whole,  with  two  or  three 
large  tumblers,  at  the  feet  of  his  expectant  lord,  who 
quickly  uncorked  the  jar,  and  began  to  pour  its  contents 
into  the  smaller  vessel. 

' "  Now,  gentlemen,  drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the 
Pierian   spring ;    it    is   the   true   poetic   source.      I'm 


56      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

a  rogue  if  I  have  drunk  to-day.  Come"  (handing 
tumblers  round  to  us),  "this  is  the  way;"  and  he 
nearly  half  filled  a  tumbler,  and  then  poured  from  the 
height  of  his  arm  out  of  the  water-jar,  till  the  tumbler 
sparkled  in  the  sun  like  soda-water,  and  drunk  it 
off  while  effervescing,  glorious  gin-swizzle,  a  most 
tempting  beverage,  of  which  everyone  on  board  took 
his  share,  munching  after  it  a  biscuit  out  of  a  huge 
tin  case  of  them.  This  certainly  exhilarated  us,  till 
we  landed  within  some  fifty  or  sixty  yards  of  the 
house  to  which  we  were  directed. 

*0n  our  way  we  learned  that  the  Regent  of  the 
island — that  is,  the  native  Governor,  as  Captain  Knox 
was  the  protecting  Power's  Governor  (Viceroy  over 
the  King!) — had  forwarded  the  materials  of  a  sub- 
stantial feast  to  the  occupant  (his  brother);  for  the 
nobili  Inglesi,  who  were  to  honour  his  premises.  In 
mentioning  this  act  of  the  Regent  to  Lord  Byron,  his 
remark  was  a  repetition  of  the  satirical  line  in  the 
imitation  address  of  the  poet  Fitzgerald,  "  God  bless 
the  Regent !"  and  as  I  mentioned  the  relationship  to 
our  approaching  host,  he  added,  with  a  laugh,  "and 
the  Duke  of  York !" 

*  On  entering  the  mansion,  we  were  received  by  the 
whole  family,  commencing  with  the  mother  of  the 
Princes — a  venerable  lady  of  at  least  seventy,  dressed 
in  pure  Greek  costume,  to  whom  Lord  Byron  went  up 
with  some  formality,  and,  with  a  slight  bend  of  the 
knee,  took  her  hand,  and  kissed  it  reverently.  We 
then  moved  into  the  adjoining  sala,  or  saloon,  where 
there  was  a  profusion  of  English  comestibles,  in  the 
shape  of  cold  sirloin  of  beef,  fowls,  ham,  etc.,  to  which 
we  did  such  honour  as  a  sea  appetite  generally 
produces.  It  was  rather  distressing  that  not  one  of 
the  entertainers  touched  any  of  these  luxuries,  it  being 
the  Greek  Second  or  Panagia  Lent,  but  fed  entirely  on 
some  cold  fish  fried  in  oil,  and  green  salad,  of  which 
last  Lord  Byron,  in  adherence  to  his  rule  of  accustom- 
ing himself  to  eat  anything  eatable,  partook,  though 
with  an  obvious  effort— as  well  as  of  the  various  wines 
that  were  on  the  table,  particularly  Ithaca,  which  is 
exactly  port  as  made  and  drunk  in  the  country  of  its 
growth. 

'  I  was  not  antiquary  enough  to  know  to  what  object 


THE  RETURN  TO  VATHI  57 

of  antiquity  our  visit  was  made,  but  I  saw  Lord  63^011 
in  earnest  conversation  with  a  very  antique  old  Greek 
monk  in  full  clerical  habit.  He  was  a  Bishop,  sitting 
on  a  stone  of  the  ruined  wall  close  by,  and  he  turned 
out  to  be  the  Esprit  fort  mentioned  in  a  note  at  the  end 
of  the  second  canto  of  **  Childe  Harold  " — a  freethinker, 
at  least  a  freespeaker,  when  he  called  the  sacrifice  of 
the  Maso  una  Coglioncria. 

'  When  we  embarked  on  our  return  to  Vathi,  Lord 
Byron  seemed  moody  and  sullen,  but  brightened  up 
as  he  saw  a  ripple  on  the  water,  a  mast  and  sail  raised 
in  the  cutter,  and  Trelawny  seated  in  the  stern  with 
the  tiller  in  hand.  In  a  few  minutes  we  were  scudding, 
gunwale  under,  in  a  position  infinitely  more  beautiful 
than  agreeable  to  landsmen,  and  Lord  Byron  obviously 
enjoying  the  not  improbable  idea  of  a  swim  for  life. 
His  motions,  as  he  sat,  tended  to  increase  the  impulse 
of  the  breeze,  and  tended  also  to  sway  the  boat  to 
leeward.  "  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  *'  if  you  all  swim, 
gentlemen  ;  but  if  3^ou  do,  you  will  have  fifty  fathoms 
of  blue  water  to  support  you ;  and  if  you  do  not,  you  will 
have  it  over  you.  But  as  you  may  not  all  be  prepared, 
starboard,  Trelawny — bring  her  up.  There !  she  is 
trim ;  and  now  let  us  have  a  glass  of  grog  after  the 
gale.  Tita^  i  fiaschi  T  This  was  followed  by  a  repro- 
duction of  the  gin-and-water  jars,  and  a  round  of  the 
immortal  swizzle.  To  my  very  great  surprise,  it  was 
new  to  the  company  that  the  liquor  which  they  were 
enjoying  was  the  product  of  Scotland,  in  the  shape  of 
what  is  called  "low-wines,"  or  semi-distilled  whisky 
— chiefly  from  the  distillery  of  mine  ancient  friend, 
James  Haig  of  Lochrin;  but  the  communication  seemed 
to  gratify  the  noble  drinker,  and  led  to  the  recitation 
by  one  of  the  company,  in  pure  lowland  Scotch,  of 
Burns's  Petition  to  the  House  of  Commons  in  behalf  of 
the  national  liquor.     The  last  stanza,  beginning 

*  "  Scotland,  my  aulcl  respeckit  mither," 

very  much  pleased  Lord  Byron,  who  said  that  he  too 
was  more  than  half  a  Scotchman. 

'  The  conversation  again  turned  on  the  "  Waverley 
Novels,"  and  on  this  occasion  Lord  Byron  spoke  of 
"  The  Bride  of  Lammermoor,"  and  cited  the  passage 
where    the   mother   of    the    cooper's   wife    tells    her 


58  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

husband  (the  cooper)  that  she  "  kent  naething  aboot 
what  he  might  do  to  his  wife  ;  but  the  deil  a  finger 
shall  ye  lay  on  my  dochter,  and  that  ye  may  foond 
upony  Shortly  afterwards,  the  conversation  having 
turned  upon  poetry,  his  lordship  mentioned  the  famous 
ode  on  the  death  of  Sir  John  Moore  as  the  finest  piece 
of  poetry  in  any  language.  He  recited  some  lines  of 
it.  One  of  the  company,  with  more  presumption  than 
wisdom,  took  him  up,  as  his  memory  seemed  to  lag, 
by  filling  in  the  line  : 

'  "  And  he  looked  like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest, 
With  his  martial  cloaiv  around  him." 

'  Lord  Byron,  with  a  look  at  the  interloper  that  spoke 
as  if  death  were  in  it,  and  no  death  was  sufficiently 
cruel  for  him,  shouted,  "  He  lay — he  lay  like  a 
warrior,  not  he  looked."  The  pretender  was  struck 
dumb,  but,  with  reference  to  his  lordship's  laudation 
of  the  piece,  he  ventured  half  to  whisper  that  the 
"  Gladiator  "  was  superior  to  it,  as  it  is  to  any  poetical 
picture  ever  painted  in  words.  The  reply  was  a 
benign  look,  and  a  flattering  recognition,  by  a  little 
applausive  tapping  of  his  tobacco-box  on  the  board  on 
which  he  sat. 

'  On  arriving  at  Vathi,  we  repaired  to  our  several 
rooms  in  the  worthy  citizens'  houses  where  w^e  were 
billeted,  to  read  and  meditate,  and  write  and  converse, 
as  we  might  meet,  indoors  or  out ;  and  much  profound 
lucubration  took  place  among  us,  on  the  characteristics 
and  disposition  of  the  very  eminent  personage  with 
whom  we  were  for  the  time  associated.  Dr.  Scott,  the 
assistant-surgeon  of  the  8th  Foot,  who  had  heard  of, 
though  he  may  not  have  witnessed,  any  of  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  great  poet,  accounted  for  them,  and 
even  for  the  sublimities  of  his  poetry,  by  an  abnormal 
construction  or  chronic  derangement  of  the  digestive 
organs — a  theory  which  experience  and  observation  of 
other  people  than  poets  afford  many  reasons  to 
support : 

'  "  Is  it  not  strange  now — ten  times  strange — to  think, 
And  is  it  not  enough  one's  faith  to  shatter, 
That  right  or  wrong  direction  of  a  drink, 
A  plus  or  mimis  of  a  yellow  matter, 


CONTRADICTORY  ACCOUNTS  OF  BYRON  59 

One  half  the  world  should  elevate  or  sink 

To  bliss  or  woe  (most  commonly  the  latter) — 
That  human  happiness  is  well-formed  chj^le, 
And  human  misery  redundant  bile  !" 

'  The  next  morning  the  accounts  we  heard  of  Lord 
Byron  were  contradictory  :  Trelawny,  who  slept  in 
the  next  room  to  him,  stating-  that  he  had  been  writing 
the  greater  part  of  the  night,  and  he  alleged  it  was  the 
sixteenth  canto  of  "  Don  Juan  ";  and  Dr.  Bruno,  who 
visited  him  at  intervals,  and  was  many  hours  in 
personal  attendance  at  his  bedside,  asserting  that  he 
had  been  seriously  ill,  and  had  been  saved  only  by 
those  benedette  pillule  which  so  often  had  had  that 
effect.  His  lordship  again  appeared  rowing  in  from 
his  bath  at  the  Lazzaretto,  a  course  of  proceeding 
(bathing  and  boating)  which  caused  Dr.  Bruno  to 
wring  his  hands  and  tear  his  hair  with  alarm  and 
vexation. 

'  It  was,  however,  the  day  fixed  for  our  return  to 
Cephalonia,  and,  having  gladly  assented  to  the  propo- 
sition to  join  the  suite,  we  all  mounted  ponies  to  cross 
the  island  to  a  small  harbour  on  the  south  side,  where 
a  boat  was  waiting  to  bear  us  to  Santa  Eufemia,  a 
Custom-house  station  on  the  coast  of  Cephalonia,  about 
half  an  hour's  passage  from  Ithaca,  which  we  accord- 
ingly passed,  and  arrived  at  the  collector's  mansion 
about  two  o'clock. 

'  During  the  journey  across  the  smaller  island,  I  made 
a  bold  push,  and  succeeded  in  securing,  with  my  small 
pony,  the  side-berth  of  Lord  Byron's  large  brown 
steed,  and  held  by  him  in  the  narrow  path,  to  the 
exclusion  of  companions  better  entitled  to  the  post. 
His  conversation  was  not  merely  free — it  was  familiar 
and  intimate,  as  if  we  were  schoolboys  meeting  after 
a  long  separation.  I  happened  to  be  "  up  "  in  the 
"Waverley  Novels,"  had  seen  several  letters  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  about  his  pedigree  for  his  baronetage, 
could  repeat  almost  every  one  of  the  **  Rejected 
Addresses,"  and  knew  something  of  the  London 
Magazine  contributors,  who  were  then  in  the  zenith 
of  their  reputation — Hazlitt,  Charles  Lamb,  Talfourd, 
Browning,  Allan  Cunningham,  Reynolds,  Darley,  etc. 
But    his    lordship    pointed    at    the    higher    game   of 


6o  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Southey,  Gifford  (whom  he  all  but  worshipped), 
Jeffrey  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  John  Wilson,  and 
other  Blackwoodites.  He  said  they  were  all  infidels, 
as  every  man  has  a  right  to  be ;  that  Edinburgh  was 
understood  to  be  the  seat  of  all  infidelity,  and  he  men- 
tioned names  (Dr.  Chalmers  and  Andrew  Thomson, 
for  examples)  among  the  clergy  as  being  of  the 
categor}^  This  I  never  could  admit.  He  was  par- 
ticularly bitter  against  Southey,  sneered  at  Words- 
worth, admired  Thomas  Campbell,  classing  his  "  Battle 
of  the  Baltic"  with  the  very  highest  of  lyric  produc- 
tions.    "Nothing  finer,"  he  said,   "was  ever  written 

than — 

'  "  There  was  silence  deep  as  death, 

And  the  boldest  held  his  breath 
For  a  time." 

'  We  arrived  at  one  of  the  beautiful  bays  that  encircle 
the  island,  like  a  wavy  wreath  of  silver  sand  studded 
with  gold  and  emerald  in  a  field  of  hquid  pearl,  and 
embarked  in  the  collector's  boat  for  the  opposite  shore 
of  Santa  Eufemia,  where,  on  arrival,  we  were  received 
by  its  courteous  chief,  Mr.  Toole,  in  a  sort  of  state — 
with  his  whole  establishment,  French  and  English, 
uncovered  and  bowing.  He  had  had  notice  of  the 
illustrious  poet's  expected  arrival,  and  had  prepared 
one  of  the  usual  luxurious  feasts  in  his  honour — feasts 
which  Lord  Byron  said  "  pla3'^ed  the  devil  "  with  him, 
for  he  could  not  abstain  when  good  eating  was  within 
his  reach.  The  apartment  assigned  to  us  was  small, 
and  the  table  could  not  accommodate  the  whole  party. 
There  were,  accordingly,  small  side  or  "  children's 
tables,"  for  such  guests  as  might  choose  to  be  willing 
to  take  seats  at  them.  "Ha!"  said  Lord  Byron, 
"  England  all  over — places  for  Tommy  and  Billy,  and 

Lizzie   and    Molly,    if    there   were    any.       Mr. " 

(addressing  me),  "  will  you  be  my  Tommy  ?" — point- 
ing to  the  two  vacant  seats  at  a  small  side-table,  close 
to  the  chair  of  our  host.  Down  I  sat,  delighted, 
opposite  to  my  companion,  and  had  a  tete-a-tete  dinner 
apart  from  the  head-table,  from  which,  as  usual,  we 
were  profusely  helped  to  the  most  recherche  portions. 
"  Verily,"  said  his  lordship,  "  I  cannot  abstain."  His 
conversation,   however,   was   directed   chiefly   to    his 


MONASTERY  ON  THE  HILL  OF  SAMOS    6i 

host,  from  whom  he  received  much  local  information, 
and  had  his  admiration  of  Sir  Thomas  Maitland  in- 
creased by  some  particulars  of  his  system  of  govern- 
ment. There  were  no  vacant  apartments  within  the 
station,  but  we  learned  that  quarters  had  been  provided 
for  us  at  a  monastery  on  the  hill  of  Samos,  across  the 
bay.  Thither  we  were  all  transported  at  twilight,  and 
ascended  to  the  large  venerable  abode  of  some  dozen 
of  friars,  who  were  prepared  for  our  arrival  and 
accommodation.  Outside  the  walls  of  the  building 
there  were  some  open  sarcophagi  and  some  pieces  of 
carved  frieze  and  fragments  of  pottery. 

'  I  walked  with  his  lordship  and  Count  Gamba  to 
examine  them,  speculating  philosophically  on  their 
quondam  contents.  Something  to  our  surprise.  Lord 
Byron  clambered  over  into  the  deepest,  and  lay  in  the 
bottom  at  full  length  on  his  back,  muttering  some 
English  lines.  I  may  have  been  wrong,  or  idly  and 
unjustifiably  curious,  but  I  leaned  over  to  hear  what 
the  lines  might  be.  I  found  they  were  unconnected 
fragments  of  the  scene  in  "  Hamlet,"  where  he  moralizes 
with  Horatio  on  the  skull : 

' "  Imperious  Cassar,  dead  and  turned  to  clay, 
Might  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away  ; 
O,  that  that  earth,  which  held  the  world  in  awe, 
Should  patch  a  wall  to  expel  the  winter's  flaw  !" 

*  As  he  sprang  out  and  rejoined  us,  he  said  : 
"  Hamlet,  as  a  whole,  is  original ;  but  I  do  not  admire 
him  to  the  extent  of  the  common  opinion.  More  than 
all,  he  requires  the  very  best  acting.  Kean  did  not 
understand  the  part,  and  one  could  not  look  at  him 
after  having  seen  John  Kemble,  whose  squeaking 
voice  was  lost  in  his  noble  carriage  and  thorough 
right  conception  of  the  character.  Rogers  told  me 
that  Kemble  used  to  be  almost  always  hissed  in  the 
beginning  of  his  career.  *  The  best  actor  on  the 
stage,'  he  said,  '  is  Charles  Young,  His  Pierre  was 
never  equalled,  and  never  will  be.'  "  Amid  such  flying 
desultory  conversation  we  entered  the  monastery,  and 
took  coffee  for  lack  of  anything  else,  while  our 
servants  were  preparing  our  beds.  Lord  Byron 
retired   almost   immediately   from   the   sala.     Shortly 


62      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

afterwards  we  were  astonished  and  alarmed  by  the 
entry  of  Dr.  Bruno,  wringing  his  hands  and  tearing 
his  hair— a  practice  much  too  frequent  with  him — and 
ejaculating :  "  O  Maria,  santissima  Maria,  se  non  e  gia 
morto—cielo,  percJie  non  son  morto  to  /"  It  appeared 
that  Lord  Byron  was  seized  with  violent  spasms  in 
the  stomach  and  liver,  and  his  brain  was  excited  to 
dangerous  excess,  so  that  he  would  not  tolerate  the 
presence  of  any  person  in  his  room.  He  refused  all 
medicine,  and  stamped  and  tore  all  his  clothes  and 
bedding  like  a  maniac.  We  could  hear  him  rattling 
and  ejaculating.  Poor  Dr.  Bruno  stood  lamenting  in 
agony  of  mind,  in  anticipation  of  the  most  dire  results 
if  immediate  relief  were  not  obtained  by  powerful 
cathartics,  but  Lord  Byron  had  expelled  him  from  the 
room  by  main  force.  He  now  implored  one  or  more 
of  the  company  to  go  to  his  lordship  and  induce  him, 
if  possible,  to  save  his  life  by  taking  the  necessary 
medicine.  Trelawny  at  once  proceeded  to  the  room, 
but  soon  returned,  saying  that  it  would  require  ten 
such  as  he  to  hold  his  lordship  for  a  minute,  adding 
that  Lord  Byron  would  not  leave  an  unbroken  article 
in  the  room.  The  doctor  again  essayed  an  entrance, 
but  without  success.  The  monks  were  becoming 
alarmed,  and  so,  in  truth,  were  all  present.  The 
doctor  asked  me  to  try  to  bring  his  lordship  to 
reason;  "  he  will  thank  you  when  he  is  well,"  he  said, 
"  but  get  him  to  take  this  one  pill,  and  he  will  be  safe." 
It  seemed  a  very  easy  undertaking,  and  I  went. 
There  being  no  lock  on  the  door,  entry  was  obtained 
in  spite  of  a  barricade  of  chairs  and  a  table  within. 
His  lordship  was  half  undressed,  standing  in  a  far 
corner  like  a  hunted  animal  at  bay.  As  I  looked 
determined  to  advance  in  spite  of  his  imprecations  of 
"Back!  out,  out  of  my  sight!  fiends,  can  I  have  no 
peace,  no  relief  from  this  hell !  Leave  me,  I  say  !"  and 
he  lifted  the  chair  nearest  to  him,  and  hurled  it 
direct  at  my  head ;  I  escaped  as  I  best  could,  and 
returned  to  the  sala.  The  matter  was  obviously 
serious,  and  we  all  counselled  force  and  such  coercive 
measures  as  might  be  necessary  to  make  him  swallow 
the  curative  medicine.  Mr.  Hamilton  Browne,  one  of 
our  party,  now  volunteered  an  attempt,  and  the  silence 
that  succeeded  his    entrance    augured  well   for    his 


OVER  THE  BLACK  MOUNTAIN  63 

success.  He  returned  much  sooner  than  expected, 
telling  the  doctor  that  he  might  go  to  sleep  ;  Lord 
Byron  had  taken  both  the  pills,  and  had  lain  down  on 
my  mattress  and  bedding,  prepared  for  him  by  my 
servant,  the  only  regular  bed  in  the  company,  the 
others  being  trunks  and  portable  tressels,  with  such 
softening  as  might  be  procured  for  the  occasion. 
Lord  Byron's  beautiful  and  most  commodious  patent 
portmanteau  bed,  with  every  appliance  that  profusion 
of  money  could  provide,  was  mine  for  the  night. 

*  On  the  following  morning  Lord  Byron  was  all 
dejection  and  penitence,  not  expressed  in  words,  but 
amply  in  looks  and  movements,  till  something  tend- 
ing to  the  jocular  occurred  to  enliven  him  and  us. 
Wandering  from  room  to  room,  from  porch  to  balcony, 
it  so  happened  that  Lord  Byron  stumbled  upon  their 
occupants  in  the  act  of  writing  accounts,  journals, 
private  letters,  or  memoranda.  He  thus  came  upon 
me  on  an  outer  roof  of  a  part  of  the  building,  while 
writing,  as  far  as  I  recollect,  these  very  notes  of  his 
conversation  and  conduct.  What  occurred,  however, 
was  not  of  much  consequence — or  none — and  turned 
upon  the  fact  that  so  many  people  were  writing,  when 
he,  the  great  voluminous  writer,  so  supposed,  was 
not  writing  at  all.  The  journey  of  the  day  was  to  be 
over  the  Black  Mountain  to  Argostoli,  the  capital  of 
Cephalonia.  We  set  out  about  noon,  struggling  as 
we  best  could  over  moor,  marsh  ground,  and  watery 
wastes.  Lord  Byron  revived ;  and,  lively  on  horse- 
back, sang,  at  the  pitch  of  his  voice,  many  of  Moore's 
melodies  and  stray  snatches  of  popular  songs  of  the 
time  in  the  common  style  of  the  streets.  There  was 
nothing  remarkable  in  the  conversation.  On  arrival 
at  Argostoli,  the  party  separated — Lord  Byron  and 
Trelawny  to  the  brig  of  the  former,  lying  in  the  offing, 
the  rest  to  their  several  quarters  in  the  town.' 


CHAPTER  VI 

After  an  absence  of  eight  days  the  party  returned  to 
Argostoli,  and  went  on  board  the  Hercules.  The 
messenger  whom  Byron  had  sent  to  Corfu  brought 
the  unwelcome  intelh'gence  that  Mr.  Blaquiere  had 
sailed  for  England,  without  leaving  any  letters  for 
Byron's  guidance.  News  also  reached  him  that  the 
Greeks  were  split  up  into  factions,  and  more  intent 
on  persecuting  and  calumniating  each  other  than  on 
securing  the  independence  of  their  country.  This 
was  depressing  news  for  a  man  who  had  sacrificed  so 
much,  and  would  have  damped  the  enthusiasm  of 
most  people  in  Byron's  position ;  but  it  neither 
deceived  nor  disheartened  him.  He  was,  and  had 
always  been,  prepared  for  the  worst.  He  made  up 
his  mind  not  to  enter  personally  into  the  arena  of  con- 
tending factions,  but  to  await  further  developments  at 
Cephalonia,  hoping  to  acquire  an  influence  which 
might  eventually  be  employed  in  settling  their  internal 
discords.  As  he  himself  remarked,  '  I  came  not  here 
to  join  a  faction,  but  a  nation.  I  must  be  circumspect.' 
Trelawny,  in  his  valuable  record  of  events  at  this  time, 
is  hard  on  Byron.  He  mistook  Byron's  motives,  and 
thought  that  he  was  'shilly-shallying  and  doing 
nothing.'  But  Trelawny,  though  mistaken,  was 
sincere.     He  was  in  every  sense  of  the  word  a  man  of 

64 


BYRON   MOVES  TO  METAXATA  65 

action,  and  full  of  a  wild  enthusiasm  for  the  Greek 
cause.  It  was  not  in  his  nature  to  await  events,  but 
rather  to  create  them,  and  Byron's  wise  decision  made 
him  restive.  He  determined  to  proceed  to  the  Morea, 
and  induced  Hamilton  Browne  to  go  with  him.  Byron 
gave  them  letters  to  the  Greek  Government,  if  they 
could  find  any  such  authority,  expressing  his  readiness 
to  serve  them  when  they  had  satisfied  him  how  he 
could  do  so. 

Gamba  takes  a  calmer  view  of  Byron's  hesitation. 
He  says  that  Byron  well  knew  that  prudence  had 
never  been  in  the  catalogue  of  his  virtues ;  that  he 
knew  the  necessity  of  such  a  virtue  in  his  present 
situation,  and  was  determined  to  attain  it.  He  care- 
fully avoided  every  appearance  of  ostentation,  and 
dreaded  being  suspected  of  being  a  mere  hunter  after 
adventures. 

'  By  perseverance  and  discernment,'  says  Gamba, 
'  Byron  hoped  to  assist  in  the  liberation  of  Greece.  To 
know  and  to  be  known  was  consequently,  from  the 
outset,  his  principal  object.' 

How  far  he  succeeded  we  shall  see  later.  From 
the  time  of  B3'-ron's  arrival  at  Argostoli  until  Septem- 
ber 6  he  lived  on  board  the  Hercules.  Colonel  Napier 
had  frequently  begged  him  to  take  up  his  quarters 
with  him,  but  Byron  declined  the  hospitality;  mainly 
because  he  feared  that  he  might  thereby  embroil 
the  British  authorities  on  the  island  with  their  own 
Government,  whose  dispositions  were  yet  unknown. 
Early  in  September  Byron  removed  with  Gamba  to 
a  village  named  Metaxata,  in  a  healthy  situation  and 
amidst  magnificent  scenery.  A  month  later  letters 
arrived  from  Edward  Trelawny,  saying  that  things 
were  not  so  bad  as  had  been  reported.     It  was  evident 

5 


66  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

that  great  apathy  and  total  disorganization  prevailed 
among  those  who  had  got  the  upper  hand,  but  that 
the  mass  of  the  people— well  disposed  towards  the 
revolution— was  beginning  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  war.  A  general  determination  of  never  again 
submitting  to  the  Turkish  yoke  had  taken  deep  root. 
The  existing  Greek  Government  sent  pressing  letters 
to  Byron  inviting  him  to  set  out  immediately,  but 
Byron  still  thought  it  wiser  not  to  move;  for  the 
reasons  which  had  governed  his  conduct  hitherto  still 
prevailed.  He  was  determined  neither  to  waste  his 
services  nor  his  money  on  furthering  the  greed  of 
some  particular  chieftain,  or  at  best  of  some  faction. 
Letters  arrived  from  the  Greek  Committee  in  London, 
informing  Byron  that  arrangements  had  been  made 
for  the  floating  of  a  Greek  loan.  Meanwhile  Mavro- 
cordato  wrote  to  Byron  from  Hydra,  whither  he  had 
fled,  inviting  him  to  that  island.  Lord  Byron  replied 
that  so  long  as  the  dissensions  between  the  factions 
continued  he  would  remain  a  mere  spectator,  as  he 
was  resolved  not  to  be  mixed  up  in  quarrels  whose 
effects  were  so  disastrous  to  the  cause.  He  at  the 
same  time  begged  Mavrocordato  to  expedite  the  de- 
parture of  the  fleet,  and  to  send  the  Greek  deputies 
to  London.  The  Turkish  fleet  meanwhile  had  sailed 
for  the  Dardanelles,  leaving  a  squadron  of  fourteen 
vessels  for  the  blockade  of  Missolonghi,  and  for  the 
protection  of  a  fortress  in  the  gulf,  which  was  still  in 
the  hands  of  the  Turks. 

The  gallant  Marco  Botzari  had  been  killed  in  action, 
and  Missolonghi  was  in  a  state  of  siege.  Its  Governor 
wrote  and  implored  Byron  to  come  there ;  but  as  the 
place  was  in  no  danger,  either  from  famine  or  from 
assault,  he  declined  the  proposal. 


DEPARTURE  OF  THE  GREEK  DEPUTIES  67 

In  the  middle  of  November,  1823,  Mr.  Hamilton 
Browne  and  the  deputies  arrived  at  Cephalonia. 
They  brought  letters  from  the  Greek  Government 
asking  Byron  to  advance  £<S,qoo  (30,000  dollars)  for 
the  payment  of  the  Greek  fleet  An  assurance  was 
offered  by  the  legislative  body  that,  upon  payment  of 
this  money,  a  Greek  squadron  would  immediately  put 
to  sea.  Byron  consented  to  advance  ;^4,ooo,  and  gave 
the  deputies  letters  for  London.  In  allusion  to  the 
loan  about  to  be  raised  in  England,  he  thus  addressed 
them : 

'  Everyone  believes  that  a  loan  will  be  the  salvation 
of  Greece,  both  as  to  its  internal  disunion  and  external 
enemies.  But  I  shall  refrain  from  insisting  much  on 
this  point,  for  fear  that  I  should  be  suspected  of 
interested  views,  and  of  wishing  to  repay  myself  the 
loan  of  money  which  I  have  advanced  to  your  Govern- 
ment' 

On  December  17,  1823,  while  Byron  was  at  Metaxata, 
awaiting  definite  information  as  to  the  progress  of 
events,  he  resumed  his  journal,  which  had  been 
abruptly  discontinued  in  consequence  of  news  having 
reached  him  that  his  daughter  was  ill. 

'  I  know  not,'  he  wrote,  *  why  I  resume  it  even  now, 
except  that,  standing  at  the  window  of  my  apartment 
in  this  beautiful  village,  the  calm  though  cool  serenity 
of  a  beautiful  and  transparent  moonlight,  showing 
the  islands,  the  mountains,  the  sea,  with  a  distant  out- 
line of  the  Morea  traced  between  the  double  azure 
of  the  waves  and  skies,  has  quieted  me  enough  to  be 
able  to  write,  which  (however  difficult  it  may  seem  for 
one  who  has  written  so  much  publicly  to  refrain)  is, 
and  always  has  been,  to  me  a  task,  and  a  painful  one. 
I  could  summon  testimonies  were  it  necessary ;  but 
my  handwriting  is  sufficient.  It  is  that  of  one  who 
thinks  much,  rapidly,  perhaps  deeply,  but  rarely  with 
pleasure.' 

5—2 


68      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

The  Greeks  were  still  quarrelling  among  themselves, 
and  Byron  almost  despaired  of  being  able  to  unite  the 
factions  in  one  common  interest.  Mavrocordato  and 
the  squadron  from  Hydra,  for  whose  coming  Byron  had 
bargained  when  he  advanced  i;4,ooo»  had  at  length 
arrived  after  the  inglorious  capture  of  a  small  Turkish 
vessel  with  50,000  dollars  on  board.  This  prize  having 
been  captured  within  the  bounds  of  neutrality,  on  the 
coast  of  Ithaca,  Byron  naturally  foresaw  that  it  would 
bring  the  Greeks  into  trouble  with  the  British  author- 
ities. Meanwhile,  news  from  London  confirmed  the 
accounts  of  an  increasing  interest  in  the  Greek  cause, 
and  gave  good  promise  of  a  successful  floating  of  the 
loan. 

In  the  middle  of  November  Colonel  Leicester  Stan- 
hope arrived  at  Cephalonia.  He  had  been  deputed  by 
the  London  Committee  to  act  with  Lord  Byron. 
News  also  came  from  Greece  that  the  Pasha  of 
Scutari  had  abandoned  Anatolico,  and  that  the  Turkish 
army  had  been  put  to  flight.  But  the  Greek  factions, 
whose  jealous  dissensions  promised  to  wreck  the 
cause  of  Greek  independence,  had  come  to  blows  in 
the  Morea. 

As  Byron  had  been  recognized  as  a  representative  of 
the  English  and  German  Committees  interested  in  the 
Greek  cause,  he  was  advised  to  write  a  public  remon- 
strance to  the  general  Government  of  Greece,  pointing 
out  that  their  dissensions  would  be  fatal  to  the  cause 
which  it  was  presumed  they  all  had  at  heart.  Byron 
disliked  to  take  so  prominent  a  step,  but  he  was 
eventually  persuaded  that  such  a  letter  might  do  a 
great  deal  of  good.  Gamba  cites  the  following  extract 
from  Byron's  appeal  to  the  executive  and  legislative 
bodies  of  the  Greek  nation  : 


A  REMONSTRANCE  69 

'  Cephalonia, 

'  November  20,  1823. 

'  The  affair  of  the  loan,  the  expectation  so  long  and 
vainly  indulged  of  the  arrival  of  the  Greek  fleet,  and 
the  danger  to  which  Missolonghi  is  still  exposed,  have 
detained  me  here,  and  vv^ill  still  detain  me  till  some  of 
them  are  removed.  But  when  the  money  shall  be 
advanced  for  the  fleet,  I  will  start  for  the  Morea,  not 
knowing,  however,  of  what  use  my  presence  can  be  in  the 
present  state  of  things.  We  have  heard  some  rumours 
of  new  dissensions — nay,  of  the  existence  of  a  civil  war. 
With  all  my  heart,  I  pray  that  these  reports  may  be 
false  or  exaggerated,  for  I  can  imagine  no  calamity 
more  serious  than  this ;  and  I  must  frankly  confess, 
that  unless  union  and  order  are  established,  all  hopes 
of  a  loan  will  be  vain.  All  the  assistance  which  the 
Greeks  could  expect  from  abroad  —  an  assistance 
neither  trifling  nor  worthless — will  be  suspended  or 
destroyed.  And,  what  is  worse,  the  Great  Powers  of 
Europe,  of  whom  no  one  is  an  enemy  to  Greece, 
but  seems  to  favour  her  establishment  of  an  independent 
power,  will  be  persuaded  that  the  Greeks  are  unable  to 
govern  themselves,  and  will,  perhaps,  themselves 
undertake  to  settle  your  disorders  in  such  a  way 
as  to  blast  the  hopes  of  yourselves  and  of  your  friends. 

'  And  allow  me  to  add  once  for  all — I  desire  the  well- 
being  of  Greece,  and  nothing  else,  I  will  do  all  1  can 
to  secure  it.  But  I  cannot  consent,  I  never  will 
consent,  that  the  English  public  or  English  indi- 
viduals should  be  deceived  as  to  the  real  state  of 
Greek  affairs.  The  rest,  gentlemen,  depends  on  you. 
You  have  fought  gloriously ;  act  honourably  towards 
your  fellow-citizens  and  towards  the  world.  Then  it 
will  no  more  be  said,  as  it  has  been  said  for  two 
thousand  years,  with  the  Roman  historian,  that  Philo- 
poemen  was  the  last  of  the  Grecians.  Let  not  calumny 
itself  (and  it  is  difficult,  I  own,  to  guard  against  it  in  so 
arduous  a  struggle)  compare  the  patriot  Greek,  when 
resting  from  his  labours,  to  the  Turkish  Pacha,  whom 
his  victories  have  exterminated. 

*  I  pray  you  to  accept  these  my  sentiments  as  a 
sincere  proof  of  my  attachment  to  your  real  interests ; 
and  to  believe  that  I  am,  and  always  shall  be, 

'  Your,  etc., 

'  Noel  Byron.' 


70  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Byron  at  the  same  time  wrote  to  Prince  Mavrocor- 
dato,  and  sent  the  letter  by  Colonel  Leicester  Stanhope. 
He  tells  the  Prince  that  he  is  very  uneasy  at  the  news 
about  the  dissensions  among  the  Greek  chieftains,  and 
warns  him  that  Greece  must  prepare  herself  for  three 
alternatives.  She  must  either  reconquer  her  liberty 
by  united  action,  or  become  a  Dependence  of  the 
Sovereigns  of  Europe ;  or,  failing  in  either  direction, 
she  would  revert  to  her  position  as  a  mere  province  of 
Turkey.  There  was  no  other  choice  open  to  her. 
Civil  war  was  nothing  short  of  ruin. 

*  If  Greece  desires  the  fate  of  Walachia  and  the 
Crimea,'  says  Byron,  '  she  may  obtain  it  to-morrow  ;  if 
that  of  Italy,  the  day  after ;  but  if  she  wishes  to 
become  truly  Greece,  free  and  independent,  she  must 
resolve  to-day,  or  she  will  never  again  have  the 
opportunity.' 

Byron,  in  his  journal  dated  December  17,  1823,  says: 

'  The  Turks  have  retired  from  before  Missolonghi — 
nobody  knows  why — since  they  left  provisions  and 
ammunition  behind  them  in  quantities,  and  the  garri- 
son made  no  sallies,  or  none  to  any  purpose.  They 
never  invested  Missolonghi  this  year,  but  bombarded 
Anatoliko,  near  the  Achelous.' 

Finlay,  in  his  'History  of  Greece,'  states  that  the 
Turks  made  no  effort  to  capture  the  place,  and  after  a 
harmless  bombardment  the  siege  was  raised,  and  the 
Turkish  forces  retired  into  Epirus. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter,  which  Byron 
wrote  to  his  sister*  conveys  an  unimpeachable  record 
of  his  feelings  and  motives  in  coming  to  Greece  : 

You  ask  me  why  I  came  up  amongst  the  Greeks. 
It  was  stated  to  me  that  my  doing  so  might  tend  to 

*  '  Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron,'  edited  by  Rowland 
Prothero,  vol.  vi.,  p.  259. 


BYRON'S  LETTER  TO  HIS  SISTER        n 

their  advantage  in  some  measure,  in  their  present 
struggle  for  independence,  both  as  an  individual  and 
as  a  member  for  the  Committee  now  in  England. 
How  far  this  may  be  realized  I  cannot  pretend  to 
anticipate,  but  I  am  willing  to  do  what  I  can.  They 
have  at  length  found  leisure  to  quarrel  amongst  them- 
selves, after  repelling  their  other  enemies,  and  it  is 
no  very  easy  part  that  I  may  have  to  play  to  avoid 
appearing  partial  to  one  or  other  of  their  factions.  .  .  . 
I  have  written  to  their  Government  at  Tripolizza  and 
Salamis,  and  am  waiting  for  instructions  where  to 
proceed,  for  things  are  in  such  a  state  amongst  them, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  conjecture  where  one  could  be 
useful  to  them,  if  at  all.  However,  I  have  some  hopes 
that  they  will  see  their  own  interest  sufficiently  not  to 
quarrel  till  they  have  received  their  national  indepen- 
dence, and  then  they  can  fight  it  out  among  them  in  a 
domestic  manner — and  welcome.  You  may  suppose 
that  I  have  something  to  think  of  at  least,  for  you  can 
have  no  idea  what  an  intriguing,  cunning,  unquiet 
generation  they  are ;  and  as  emissaries  of  all  parties 
come  to  me  at  present,  and  I  must  act  impartially,  it 
makes  me  exclaim,  as  Julian  did  at  his  military  exer- 
cises, "Oh  !  Plato,  what  a  task  for  a  Philosopher!'" 


CHAPTER  VII 

It  was  during  the  time  that  Byron  was  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Cephalonia  that  Dr.  Kennedy,  a  Scottish 
medical  man,  methodistically  inclined,  undertook  the 
so-called  '  conversion '  of  the  poet.  Gamba  tells  us 
that  their  disputes  on  religious  matters  sometimes 
lasted  five  or  six  hours.  *  The  Bible  was  so  familiar 
to  Byron  that  he  frequently  corrected  the  citations  of 
the  theological  doctor.' 

Byron,  in  the  letter  from  which  we  have  quoted, 
says : 

'There  is  a  clever  but  eccentric  man  here,  a 
Dr.  Kennedy,  who  is  very  pious  and  tries  in  good 
earnest  to  make  converts  ;  but  his  Christianity  is  a 
queer  one,  for  he  says  that  the  priesthood  of  the 
Church  of  England  are  no  more  Christians  than 
"  Mahound  or  Termagant "  are.  ...  I  like  what  I 
have  seen  of  him.  He  says  that  the  dozen  shocks  of 
an  earthquake  we  had  the  other  day  are  a  sign  of  his 
doctrine,  or  a  judgment  on  his  audience,  but  this 
opinion  has  not  acquired  proselytes.' 

As  disputants,  Byron  and  Kennedy  stood  far  as  the 
poles  asunder.  The  former,  while  beheving  firmly  in 
the  existence  and  supreme  attributes  of  God,  doubted, 
but  never  denied,  manifestations  that  could  not  be 
tested  or  demonstrated  by  positive  proof.  The  latter, 
through  blind  unquestioning  faith,  believed  in  every- 
thing which  an  inspired  Bible  had  revealed  to  man^- 

72 


BYRON  AND  DR.  KENNEDY  n 

kind.  Thus  both  were  believers  up  to  a  certain  point, 
and  both  were  equally  well-meaning  and  sincere.  The 
intensity  of  their  faith  had  its  limitations.  They  did 
not  agree,  and  never  could  have  agreed,  in  their  views 
of  religion.  They  moved  on  parallel  lines  that  might 
have  been  extended  indefinitely,  but  could  never  meet. 
Kennedy  discouraged  the  unlimited  use  of  reason,  and 
preferred  an  absolute  reliance  on  the  traditional  teach- 
ing of  his  Church.  To  Byron  the  exercise  of  reason 
was  an  absolute  necessity.  He  would  not  admit  that 
God  had  given  us  minds,  and  had  denied  us  the  right 
to  use  them  intelligently  ;  or  that  the  Almighty  desired 
us  to  sacrifice  reason  to  faith,  '  It  is  useless,'  said 
Byron,  'to  tell  me  that  I  am  to  believe,  and  not  to 
reason  ;  you  might  as  well  say  to  a  man  :  "  Wake  not, 
but  sleep." '  While  Byron  profoundly  disbelieved  in 
eternal  punishments,  Kennedy  would  have  mankind 
kept  straight  by  fear  of  them.  Kennedy,  though 
versed  in  the  Bible,  was,  as  events  proved,  hardly  a 
match  for  Byron. 

Hodgson,  an  old  friend  of  Byron's,  has  left  a  record 
that  a  Bible  presented  to  him  '  by  that  better  angel  of 
his  life,' his  beloved  sister,  was  among  the  books  which 
Byron  always  kept  near  him.  The  following  lines, 
taken  from  Scott,  were  inserted  by  Byron  on  the 
fly-leaf : 

*  Within  this  awful  volume  lies 
The  Mystery  of  Mysteries. 
Oh  !  happiest  they  of  human  race 
To  whom  our  God  has  given  grace 
To  hear,  to  read,  to  fear,  to  pray, 
To  lift  the  latch,  and  force  the  way ; 
But  better  had  he  ne'er  been  born 
Who  reads  to  doubt,  or  reads  to  scorn  !'* 

*  *  Memoir  of  Rev.  F.  Hodgson,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  150. 


74      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

During  the  discussions  which  took  place,  Kennedy 
was  forced  to  admit  that  Byron  was  well  versed  in 
the  Bible ;  but  he  maintained  that  prayer  was  neces- 
sary in  order  to  understand  its  message.  Byron  said 
that,  in  his  opinion,  prayer  does  not  consist  in  the  act 
of  kneeling,  or  of  repeating  certain  words  in  a  solemn 
manner,  as  devotion  is  the  affection  of  the  heart. 

*  When  I  look  at  the  marvels  of  the  creation,'  said 
he,  *  I  bow  before  the  Majesty  of  Heaven ;  and  when 
I  experience  the  delights  of  life,  health,  and  happiness, 
then  my  heart  dilates  in  gratitude  towards  God  for  all 
His  blessings.' 

Kennedy  maintained  that  this  was  not  sufficient;  it 
must  be  an  earnest  supplication  for  grace  and  humility. 
In  Kennedy's  opinion  Byron  had  not  sufficient  humility 
to  understand  the  truths  of  the  Gospel.  At  this  time, 
certainly,  Byron  was  not  prepared  to  believe  implicitly 
in  the  Divinity  of  Christ.  He  lacked  the  necessary 
faith  to  do  so,  but  he  did  not  reject  the  doctrine. 

*  I  have  not  the  slightest  desire,'  he  said,  '  to  reject 
a  doctrine  without  having  investigated  it.  Quite  the 
contrary ;  I  wish  to  believe,  because  I  feel  extremely 
unhappy  in  a  state  of  uncertainty  as  to  what  I  am  to 
believe.' 

He  wanted  proofs — as  so  many  others  have  before 
and  since — and  without  it  conviction  was  impossible. 

'  Byron,'  said  Countess  Guiccioli,  'would  never  have 
contested  absolutely  the  truth  of  any  mystery,  but 
have  merely  stated  that,  so  long  as  the  testimony  of 
its  truth  was  hidden  in  obscurity,  such  a  mystery  must 
be  liable  to  be  questioned.' 

Byron  had  been  brought  up  by  his  mother  in  very 
strict  religious  principles,  and  in  his  youth  had  read 
many  theological  works.     He  told  Dr.  Kennedy  that 


CONVERSATIONS  ON  RELIGION         75 

he  was  in  no  sense  an  unbeliever  who  denied  the 
Scriptures,  or  was  content  to  grope  in  atheism, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  was  his  earnest  wish  to 
increase  his  belief,  as  half- convictions  made  him 
wretched.  He  declared  that,  with  the  best  will  in 
the  world,  he  could  not  understand  the  Scriptures. 
Kennedy,  on  the  other  hand,  took  the  Bible  to  be  the 
salvation  of  mankind,  and  was  strong  in  his  condemna- 
tion of  the  Catholic  Church.  He  objected  to  the 
Roman  Communion  as  strongly  as  he  repudiated  and 
despised  Deism  and  Socinianism. 

Byron  had  at  this  time  a  decided  leaning  towards 
the  Roman  Communion,  and,  while  deploring  hypoc- 
risies and  superstitions,  deeply  respected  those  who 
believed  conscientiously,  whatever  that  belief  might 
be.  He  loathed  hypocrites  of  all  kinds,  and  especially 
hypocrites  in  religion. 

'  I  do  not  reject  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,'  he 
said ;  *  I  only  ask  a  few  more  proofs  to  profess  them 
sincerely.  I  do  not  believe  myself  to  be  the  vile 
Christian  which  so  many  assert  that  I  am.' 

Kennedy  advised  Byron  to  put  aside  all  difficult 
subjects — such  as  the  origin  of  sin,  the  fall  of  man,  the 
nature  of  the  Trinity,  the  doctrine  of  predestination, 
and  kindred  mysteries — and  to  study  Christianity  by 
the  light  of  the  Bible  alone,  which  contains  the  only 
means  of  salvation.  We  give  Byron's  answer  in  full 
on  Dr.  Kennedy's  authority  : 

*You  recommend  what  is  very  difficult;  for  how  is 
it  possible  for  one  who  is  acquainted  with  ecclesias- 
tical history,  as  well  as  with  the  writings  of  the  most 
renowned  theologians,  with  all  the  difficult  questions 
which  have  agitated  the  minds  of  the  most  learned, 
and  who  sees  the  divisions  and  sects  which  abound  in 
Christianity,  and  the  bitter  language  which  is  often 


ye  BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

used  by  the  one  against  the  other;  how  is  it  possible, 
I  ask,  for  such  a  one  not  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of 
the  doctrines  which  have  given  rise  to  so  much  dis- 
cussion ?  One  Council  has  pronounced  against  another; 
Popes  have  belied  their  predecessors,  books  have  been 
written  against  other  books,  and  sects  have  risen  to 
replace  other  sects.  The  Pope  has  opposed  the  Protes- 
tants, and  the  Protestants  the  Pope.  We  have  heard 
of  Arianism,  Socinianism,  Methodism,  Quakerism,  and 
numberless  other  sects.  Why  have  these  existed  ?  It 
is  a  puzzle  for  the  brain ;  and  does  it  not,  after  all, 
seem  safer  to  say:  "  Let  us  be  neutral:  let  those  fight 
who  will,  and  when  they  have  settled  which  is  the 
best  religion,  then  shall  we  also  begin  to  study  it."  I 
like  your  way  of  thinking,  in  many  respects  ;  you  make 
short  work  of  decrees  and  Councils,  you  reject  all  which 
is  not  in  harmony  with  the  Scriptures.  You  do  not 
admit  of  theological  works  filled  with  Latin  and  Greek, 
of  both  High  and  Low  Church ;  you  would  even  sup- 
press many  abuses  which  have  crept  into  the  Church, 
and  you  are  right ;  but  I  question  whether  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  or  the  Scotch  Presbyterians 
would  consider  you  their  ally.' 

Kennedy,  in  reply,  alluded  to  the  differences  which 
existed  in  religious  opinions,  and  expressed  regret  at 
this,  but  pleaded  indulgence  for  those  sects  which  do 
not  attack  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  Christianity. 
He  strongly  condemned  Arianism,  Socinianism,  and 
Swedenborgianism,  which  were  anathema  to  him. 

'  You  seem  to  hate  the  Socinians  greatly,'  said  Byron, 
'but  is  this  charitable?  Why  exclude  a  Socinian, 
who  believes  honestly,  from  any  hope  of  salvation? 
Does  he  not  also  found  his  belief  upon  the  Bible  ?  It 
is  a  religion  which  gains  ground  daily.  Lady  Byron 
is  much  in  favour  with  its  followers.  We  were  wont 
to  discuss  religious  matters  together,  and  many  of  our 
misunderstandings  have  arisen  from  that.  Yet,  on 
the  whole,  I  think  her  religion  and  mine  were  much 
alike.' 


LADY  BYRON  ON  CALVINISM  ^^ 

Whether  Byron  was  justified  in  this  opinion  or  not 
may  be  see  from  a  letter  which  Lady  Byron  wrote  to 
Mr.  Crabb  Robinson*  in  reference  to  Dr.  Kennedy's 
book :  v\ 

'Strange  as  it  may  seem,  Dr.  Kennedy  is  most 
faithful  where  you  doubt  his  being  so.  Not  merely 
from  casual  expressions,  but  from  the  whole  tenor  of 
Lord  Byron's  feelings,  I  could  not  but  conclude  he 
was  a  believer  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  and  had 
the  gloomiest  Calvinistic  tenets.  To  that  unhappy 
view  of  the  relation  of  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  I 
have  always  ascribed  the  misery  of  his  life.  ...  It  is 
enough  for  me  to  remember,  that  he  who  thinks  his 
transgressions  beyond  forgiveness  (and  such  was  his 
own  deepest  feeling)  has  righteousness  beyond  that  of 
the  self-satisfied  sinner;  or,  perhaps,  of  the  half 
awakened.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  doubt,  that, 
could  he  have  been  at  once  assured  of  pardon,  his 
living  faith  in  a  moral  duty  and  love  of  virtue  ("  I  love 
the  virtues  which  I  cannot  claim  ")  would  have  con- 
quered every  temptation.  Judge,  then,  how  I  must 
hate  the  Creed  which  made  him  see  God  as  an  Avenger, 
not  a  Father.  My  own  impressions  were  just  the 
reverse,  but  could  have  little  weight,  and  it  was  in 
vain  to  seek  to  turn  his  thoughts  for  long  from  that 
idee  fixe,  with  which  he  connected  his  physical  pecu- 
liarity as  a  stamp.  Instead  of  being  made  happier  by 
any  apparent  good,  he  felt  convinced  that  every  bless- 
ing would  be  "  turned  into  a  curse "  for  him.  Who, 
possessed  of  such  ideas,  could  lead  a  life  of  love  and 
service  to  God  or  man  ?  They  must  in  a  measure 
realize  themselves.  "  The  worst  of  it  is  I  do  believe," 
he  said.  I,  like  all  connected  with  him,  was  broken 
against  the  rock  of  Predestination.* 

Lady  Byron  writes  from  her  own  personal  experience 
of  a  time  when  tender  affection  or  sympathy  formed  no 
part  of  Byron's  nature;  of  a  time  when  he  had  no 
regard  for  the  interests  or  the  happiness  of  others ; 

*  '  Diary,'  vol.  iii.,  pp.  435,  436. 


78      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

when  he  lived  according  to  his  own  humours,  and 
when  his  will  was  his  law.  Byron's  earlier  poetry 
amply  supports  Lady  Byron's  view  of  so  miserable  a 
state  of  mind.  But  there  is  reason  to  hope — nay,  we 
might  say  to  believe — that,  in  the  last  years  of  his  life, 
Byron  began  to  realize  that  a  merciful  God  would  be 
wholly  incapable  of  such  manifest  injustice  as  to  con- 
demn His  creatures  to  suffer  for  crimes  which  they 
were  powerless  to  resist  and  predestined  to  commit. 
He  believed  in  God  and  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  and  has  publicly  declared  that  all  punishment 
which  is  to  revenge,  rather  than  to  correct,  must  be 
morally  wrong.  *  Human  passions,'  wrote  Byron, 
'  have  probably  disfigured  the  Divine  doctrines  here : 
but  the  whole  thing  is  inscrutable.' 

Countess  Guiccioli  tells  us  that,  whatever  may  have 
been  Byron's  opinions  with  regard  to  certain  points  of 
religious  doctrine,  sects,  and  modes  of  worship,  in 
essential  matters  his  mind  never  seriously  doubted. 
Matthews  in  his  Cambridge  days,  and  Shelley  towards 
the  close  of  life,  moved  him  not  at  all.  Between  the 
commencement  of  Byron's  career  and  its  close,  his 
mind  passed  successively  through  different  phases 
before  arriving  at  the  last  result.  Leicester  Stanhope, 
who  was  at  Missolonghi  with  Byron,  and  who  knew 
him  well  latterly,  says  : 

'  Most  persons  assume  a  virtuous  character.  Lord 
Byron's  ambition,  on  the  contrary,  was  to  make  the 
world  imagine  that  he  was  a  sort  of  Satan,  though 
occasionally  influenced  by  lofty  sentiments  to  the 
performance  of  great  actions.  Fortunately  for  his 
fame,  he  possessed  another  quality,  by  which  he  stood 
completely  unmasked.  He  was  the  most  ingenuous  of 
men,  and  his  nature,  in  the  main  good,  always 
triumphed  over  his  acting.' 


BYRON  DID  NOT  FEAR  DEATH  79 

Parry,  who  stood  at  Byron's  bedside  when  he  died 
at  Missolonghi,  tells  us  that  Byron  died  fearless  and 
resigned.  Could  there  be  a  better  proof  than  these 
words,  spoken  by  Byron  a  few  hours  before  he  passed 
away  ? — 

'  Eternity  and  space  are  before  me ;  but  on  this 
subject,  thank  God,  I  am  happy  and  at  ease.  The 
thought  of  living  eternally,  of  again  reviving,  is  a 
great  pleasure.  Christianity  is  the  purest  and  most 
liberal  religion  in  the  world ;  but  the  numerous 
teachers  who  are  eternally  worrying  mankind  with 
their  denunciations  and  their  doctrines  are  the 
greatest  enemies  of  religion.  I  have  read,  with  more 
attention  than  half  of  them,  the  Book  of  Christianity, 
and  I  admire  the  liberal  and  truly  charitable  principles 
which  Christ  has  laid  down.  There  are  questions 
connected  with  this  subject  which  none  but  Almighty 
God  can  solve.  Time  and  Space,  who  can  conceive? 
None  but  God  :  on  Him  I  rely.' 

During  the  time  that  Byron  lived  at  Metaxata,  in 
Cephalonia,  he  seldom  saw  anyone  in  the  evening 
except  Dr.  Stravolemo,  one  of  the  most  estimable  men 
in  the  island,  who  lived  in  that  village.  He  had  been 
first  physician  to  Ali  Pacha.  He  was  an  entertaining 
man,  and  afforded  Byron  much  amusement  by  dis- 
puting with  Dr.  Bruno  on  medical  questions. 

'  Lord  Byron,'  says  Gamba,  '  had  generally  three  or 
four  books  lying  before  him,  of  which  he  read  first  one, 
then  the  other,  and  used  to  contrive  to  foment  those 
friendly  contentions,  which,  however,  never  exceeded 
the  proper  bounds.  Lord  Byron's  favourite  reading 
consisted  of  Greek  history,  of  memoirs,  and  of 
romances.  Never  a  day  passed  without  his  reading 
some  pages  of  Scott's  novels.  His  admiration  of 
Walter  Scott,  both  as  a  writer  and  as  a  companion, 
was  unbounded.  Speaking  of  him  to  his  English 
friends,  he  used  to  say  :  "  You  should  know  Scott ;  you 
would   like   him   so  much  ;  he  is  the  most  delightful 


80      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

man  in  a  room ;  no  affectation,  no  nonsense ;  and, 
what  I  like  above  all  things,  nothing  of  the  author 
about  him.' 

One  evening  Colonel  Napier,  the  British  Resident, 
arrived  at  Byron's  house  at  a  gallop,  and  asked  for 
Drs.  Bruno  and  Stravolemo.  He  said  that  a  party 
of  peasants  who  were  road-making  had,  in  excavating 
a  high  bank,  fallen  under  a  landslide  and  were  in 
danger  of  their  lives.  There  were  at  least  a  dozen 
persons  entombed.  Colonel  Napier  happened  to 
be  passing  at  the  moment  when  the  catastrophe 
occurred ;  help  was  urgently  needed.  Byron  sent 
Dr.  Bruno  to  their  assistance,  while  he  and  Gamba 
followed  as  soon  as  their  horses  could  be  saddled. 

'  When  we  came  to  the  place,'  says  Gamba,  *  we  saw 
a  lamentable  spectacle  indeed.  A  crowd  of  women 
and  children  were  assembled  round  the  ruins,  and 
filled  the  air  with  their  cries.  Three  or  four  of  the 
peasants  who  had  been  extricated  were  carried  before 
us  half  dead  to  the  neighbouring  cottages ;  and  we 
found  Mr.  Hill,  a  friend  of  Lord  Byron,  and  the  super- 
intendent of  the  w^orks,  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  con- 
sternation. Although  an  immense  crowd  continued 
flocking  to  the  place,  and  it  was  thought  that  there 
were  still  some  other  workmen  under  the  fallen  mass 
of  earth,  no  one  would  make  any  further  efforts.  The 
Greeks  stood  looking  on  without  moving,  as  if  totally 
indifferent  to  the  catastrophe,  and  despaired  of  doing 
any  good.  This  enraged  Lord  Byron;  he  seized  a 
spade,  and  began  to  work  as  hard  as  he  could ;  but  it 
was  not  until  the  peasants  had  been  threatened  with 
the  horsewhip  that  they  followed  his  example.  Some 
shoes  and  hats  were  found,  but  no  human  beings. 
Lord  Byron  never  could  be  an  idle  spectator  of  any 
calamity.  He  was  peculiarly  alive  to  the  distress  of 
others,  and  was  perhaps  a  little  too  easily  imposed 
upon  by  every  tale  of  woe,  however  clumsily  con- 
trived. The  slightest  appearance  of  injustice  or  cruelty, 
not  only  to  his  own  species,  but  to  animals,  roused 


GREEK  SQUADRON  AT  MISSOLONGHI    8i 

his  indignation  and  compelled  his  interference,  and 
personal  consequences  never  for  one  moment  entered 
into  his  calculations.' 

In  the  month  of  December  the  Greek  squadron 
anchored  off  Missolonghi,  where  Prince  Mavrocordato 
was  received  with  enthusiasm.  He  was  given  full 
powers  to  organize  Western  Greece.  The  Turkish 
squadron  was  at  this  time  shut  up  in  the  Gulf  of 
Lepanto. 

Byron  sent  to  inform  Mavrocordato  that  the  loan 
which  he  had  promised  to  the  Government  was  ready, 
and  that  he  was  prepared  either  to  go  on  board  some 
vessel  belonging  to  the  Greek  fleet,  or  to  come  to 
Missolonghi  and  confer  with  him.  Mavrocordato  and 
Colonel  Leicester  Stanhope  wrote  to  beg  Byron  to 
come  as  soon  as  possible  to  Missolonghi,  where  his 
presence  would  be  of  great  service  to  the  cause.  In 
the  first  place  money  to  pay  the  fleet  was  much 
wanted ;  the  sailors  were  on  the  verge  of  mutiny. 
Mavrocordato  was  in  a  state  of  anxiety,  the  Greek 
Admiral  looked  gloomy,  and  the  sailors  grumbled  aloud. 

'  It  is  right  and  necessary  to  tell  you,'  wrote  Stan- 
hope, 'that  a  great  deal  is  expected  of  you,  both  in  the 
way  of  counsel  and  money.  If  the  money  does  not 
arrive  soon,  I  expect  that  the  remaining  five  ships  (the 
others  are  off)  will  soon  make  sail  for  Spezia.  All  are 
eager  to  see  you.  They  calculate  on  your  aiding  them 
with  resources  for  their  expedition  against  Lepanto, 
and  hope  that  you  will  take  about  1,500  Suliotes  into 
your  pay  for  two  or  three  months.  Missolonghi  is 
swarming  with  soldiers,  and  the  Government  has 
neither  quarters  nor  provisions  for  them.  I  walked 
along  the  street  this  evening,  and  the  people  asked  me 
after  Lord  Byron.  Your  further  delay  in  coming  will 
be  attended  with  serious  consequences.' 

Byron  at  the  same  time  received  a  letter  from  the 
Legislative  Council,  begging  him  to  co-operate  with 

6 


82      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Mavrocordato  in  the  organization  of  Western  Greece. 
It  was  now  December  26,  1823.  Byron  chartered  a 
vessel  for  part  of  the  baggage  ;  a  mistico,  or  light  fast- 
sailing  vessel,  for  himself  and  his  suite ;  and  a  larger 
vessel  for  the  horses,  baggage,  and  munitions  of  war. 
The  weather  was  unfavourable  and  squally,  the  vessels 
could  not  get  under-weigh,  and  the  whole  party  were 
detained  for  two  days,  during  which  time  Byron 
lodged  with  his  banker,  Mr.  Charles  Hancock,  and 
passed  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  the  society  of  the 
British  authorities  of  the  island. 

We  are  able,  through  the  courtesy  of  General  Skey 
Muir,  the  son  of  Byron's  friend  at  Cephalonia,  to  give 
extracts  from  a  letter  which  Mr.  Charles  Hancock 
wrote  to  Dr  Muir  on  June  i,  1824.  During  Byron's 
residence  at  Metaxata,  Dr.  Muir  was  the  principal 
medical  officer  at  Cephalonia,  and  it  was  in  his  house 
that  some  of  the  conversations  on  religion  between 
Dr.  Kennedy  and  Byron  were  held.  Mr.  Charles 
Hancock  writes  : 

*  The  day  before  Byron  left  the  island  I  happened  to 
receive  a  copy  of"  Quentin  Durward,"  which  I  put  into 
his  hands,  knowing  that  he  had  not  seen  it,  and  that 
he  wished  to  obtain  the  perusal  of  it.  Lord  Byron 
was  very  fond  of  Scott's  novels  —  you  will  have 
observed  they  were  always  scattered  about  his  rooms 
at  Metaxata.  He  immediately  shut  himself  in  his 
roorn,  and,  in  his  eagerness  to  indulge  in  it,  refused 
to  dine  with  the  officers  of  the  8th  Regiment  at  their 
mess,  or  even  to  join  us  at  table,  but  merely  came  out 
once  or  twice  to  say  how  much  he  was  entertained, 
returning  to  his  chamber  with  a  plate  of  figs  in  his 
hand.  He  was  exceedingly  delighted  with  "Quentin 
Durward  " — said  it  was  excellent,  especially  the  first 
volume  and  part  of  the  second,  but  that  it  fell  off 
towards  the  conclusion,  like  all  the  more  recent  of 
these  novels :   it  might   be,  he  added,  owing  to  the 


ZANTE  TO  MISSOLONGHI  83 

extreme  rapidity  with  which  they  were  written — 
admirably  conceived,  and  as  well  executed  at  the  out- 
set, but  hastil}^  finished  off.  .  .  . 

'  I  will  close  these  remarks  with  the  mention  of  the 
period  when  we  took  our  final  leave  of  him.  It  was 
on  the  29th  December  last  that,  after  a  slight  repast, 
you  and  I  accompanied  him  in  a  boat,  gay  and  animated 
at  finding  himself  embarked  once  more  on  the  element 
he  loved ;  and  we  put  him  on  board  the  little  vessel 
that  conveyed  him  to  Zante  and  Missolonghi.  He 
mentioned  the  poetic  feeling  with  which  the  sea 
always  inspired  him,  rallied  you  on  your  grave  and 
thoughtful  looks,  me  on  my  bad  steering  ;  quizzed 
Dr.  Bruno,  but  added  in  English  (which  the  doctor 
did  not  understand),  "  He  is  the  most  sincere  Italian 
I  ever  met  with  ";  and  laughed  at  Fletcher,  who  was 
getting  well  ducked  by  the  spray  that  broke  over  the 
bows  of  the  boat.  The  vessel  was  lying  sheltered 
from  the  wind  in  the  little  creek  that  is  surmounted 
by  the  Convent  of  San  Constantino,  but  it  was  not  till 
she  had  stood  out  and  caught  the  breeze  that  we 
parted  from  him,  to  see  him  no  more.' 

The  wind  becoming  fair,  on  December  28,  at  3  p.m., 
the  vessels  got  under  way,  Byron  in  the  mistico, 
Pietro  Gamba  in  the  larger  vessel.  On  the  morning 
of  the  29th  they  were  at  Zante,  and  spent  the  day  in 
transacting  business  with  Mr.  Bartf  and  shipping  a 
considerable  sum  of  money.  Byron  declined  the 
Commandant's  invitation  to  his  residence,  as  his  time 
was  fully  occupied  with  the  business  in  hand.  At 
about  six  in  the  evening  they  sailed  for  Missolonghi, 
without  the  slightest  suspicion  that  the  Turkish  fleet 
was  on  the  lookout  for  prizes.  They  knew  that  the 
Greek  fleet  was  lying  before  Missolonghi,  and  they 
expected  to  sight  a  convoy  sent  out  to  meet  them. 
Gamba  says  : 

*  We  sailed  together  till  after  ten  at  night,  with  a 
fair  wind  and  a  clear  sky  ;  the  air  was  fresh  but  not 
sharp.     Our  sailors  sang  patriotic  songs,  monotonous 

6—2 


84      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

indeed,  but  to  persons  in  our  situation  extremely 
touching.  We  were  all,  Lord  Byron  particularly,  in 
excellent  spirits.  His  vessel  sailed  the  fastest.  Then 
the  waves  parted  us,  and  our  voices  could  no  longer 
reach  each  other.  We  made  signals  by  firing  pistols 
and  carabines,  and  shouted,  *'  To  morrow  we  meet  at 
Missolonghi — to  morrow  !" 

'  Thus,  full  of  confidence  and  spirit,  we  sailed  along. 
At  midnight  we  were  out  of  sight.' 

At  6.30  a.m.  the  vessel  which  bore  Gamba  along 
gaily  approached  the  rocks  which  border  the  shallows 
of  Missolonghi.  They  saw  a  large  vessel  bearing 
down  upon  them,  which  they  at  first  took  for  one  of 
the  Greek  fleet ;  in  appearance  it  seemed  superior  to  a 
Turkish  man-of-war.  But  as  Gamba's  vessel  hoisted 
the  Ionian  flag,  to  their  dismay  the  stranger  hoisted 
the  Ottoman  ensign.  The  Turkish  commander  ordered 
Gamba's  captain  to  come  on  board,  and  the  poor 
fellow  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  They  could  think  of 
no  excuse  which  would  have  any  weight  with  their 
captors,  and  were  in  some  trepidation  as  to  Byron's 
fate,  he  having  money,  arms,  and  some  Greeks, 
with  him. 

Writing  from  Missolonghi  on  January  5,  1824, 
Colonel  Stanhope  says  : 

*  Count  Gamba  has  just  arrived  here,  with  all  the 
articles  belonging  to  the  Committee.  He  was  taken 
earl^'  in  the  morning  by  a  Turkish  ship.  The  captain 
thereof  ordered  the  master  on  board.  The  moment 
he  came  on  deck,  the  captain  drew  his  dazzling  sabre 
and  placed  himself  in  an  attitude  as  if  to  cut  his  head 
off,  and  at  the  same  time  asked  him  where  he  was 
bound.  The  frightened  Greek  said,  to  Missolonghi. 
They  gazed  at  each  other,  and  all  at  once  the  Turk 
recognized  in  his  prisoner  one  who,  on  a  former 
occasion,  had  saved  his  life.  They  embraced.  Next 
came  Count  Gamba's  turn.  He  declared — swore  that 
he  was  bound  to  Calamata,  and  that  the  master  had 


ARRIVAL  AT  MISSOLONGHI  85 

told  a  lie  through  fear,  and  that  his  bill  of  lading- 
would  bear  him  out.  They  were  both  taken  to  the 
castle  of  the  Morea,  were  well  treated,  and  after  three 
days  released.' 

On  January  5,  1824,  Byron  arrived  at  Missolonghi. 
He  was  received  with  military  honours  and  popular 
applause. 

'  He  landed,'  says  Gamba,  *  in  a  Speziot  boat,  dressed 
in  a  red  uniform.  He  was  in  excellent  health,  and 
appeared  moved  by  the  scene.  I  met  him  as  he  dis- 
embarked, and  in  a  few  minutes  we  entered  the  house 
prepared  for  him — the  same  in  which  Colonel  Stanhope 
resided.  The  Colonel  and  Prince  Mavrocordato,  with 
a  long  suite  of  Greek  and  European  officers,  received 
him  at  the  door.  I  cannot  describe  the  emotions 
which  such  a  scene  excited.  Crowds  of  soldiery  and 
citizens  of  every  rank,  sex,  and  age,  were  assembled 
to  testify  their  delight.  Hope  and  content  were 
pictured  on  every  countenance.' 

Byron  seems  to  have  escaped  from  perils  quite  as 
great,  though  differing  in  nature,  from  those  through 
which  Gamba  had  passed.  His  vessel  passed  close  to 
the  Turkish  frigate,  but  under  favour  of  the  night,  and 
by  preserving  complete  silence,  the  master  ran  her 
close  under  the  rocks  of  the  Scrofes,  whither  the  Turk 
dared  not  follow  her.  Byron  saw  Gamba's  vessel 
taken  and  conducted  to  Patras.  Byron,  thinking  it 
wiser  not  to  make  straight  for  Missolonghi  steered  for 
Petala ;  but  finding  that  port  open  and  unsafe,  his 
vessel  was  taken  to  Dragomestri,  a  small  town  on  the 
coast  of  Acarnania.  On  his  arrival  there,  Byron  was 
visited  by  the  Primates  and  officers  of  the  place,  who 
offered  him  their  good  offices.  From  this  place  Byron 
sent  messengers  both  to  Zante  and  Missolonghi.  On 
receipt  of  Byron's  letter,  Mavrocordato  sent  five  gun- 
boats and  a  brig-of-war  to  escort  him  to  Missolonghi. 


S6  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

On  January  4,  the  flotilla  was  caught  in  a  violent 
storm,  which  threw  Byron's  vessel  in  dangerous 
proximity  to  the  rocks  on  that  inhospitable  coast. 
The  sailors  at  first  behaved  remarkably  well,  and  got 
the  vessel  off  the  rocks ;  but  a  second  squall  burst 
upon  them  with  great  violence,  and  drove  the  Mistico 
into  dangerous  waters,  causing  the  sailors  to  lose  all 
hope  of  saving  her.  They  abandoned  the  vessel  to 
her  fate,  and  thought  only  of  their  own  safety.  But 
Byron  persuaded  them  to  remain ;  and  by  his  firm- 
ness, and  no  small  share  of  nautical  skill,  not  only  got 
the  crew  out  of  danger,  but  also  saved  the  vessel, 
several  lives,  and  25,000  dollars,  the  greater  part  of 
which  was  in  hard  cash.  Byron  does  not  seem  to 
have  pulled  off  his  clothes  since  leaving  Cephalonia. 

It  was  an  adventurous  voyage — appropriately  so — 
for  it  was  his  last  journey  in  this  world. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

At  the  beginning  of  the  war,  Missolonghi  consisted 
of  about  800  scattered  houses,  built  close  to  the  seaside 
on  a  muddy  and  most  unhealthy  site,  scarcely  above 
the  level  of  the  waters,  'which  a  few  centuries  ago 
must  have  covered  the  spot,  as  may  be  judged  from 
the  nature  of  the  soil,  consisting  of  decomposed  sea- 
weed and  dried  mud.'  The  population  was  exceed- 
ingly poor,  and  amounted  to  nearly  3,000  souls.  The 
town  had  a  most  uninviting  appearance ;  the  streets 
were  narrow  and  badly  paved.  But,  says  Millingen, 
what  most  revolted  a  stranger  was  the  practice  of 
having  the  buildings  so  constructed  that  the  most 
loathsome  substances  were  emptied  into  the  streets. 
The  inhabitants  were  so  accustomed  to  this  abomin- 
able state  of  things  that  they  ridiculed  the  complaints 
of  strangers,  and  even  swore  at  people  who  ventured 
to  suggest  reform.  Missolonghi  must  indeed  have 
been  a  wretched  place  even  for  a  strong  man  in  his 
full  powers  and  vitality — for  Byron  it  was  nothing 
short  of  Death !  Trelawny  tells  us  that  this  place  is 
situated  on  the  verge  of  a  dismal  swamp.  The  marvel 
to  him  was  that  Byron,  who  was  always  liable  to 
fevers,  should  have  consented  to  live  three  months  on 
this  mud-bank,  shut  in  by  a  circle  of  stagnant  pools 

87 


88      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

'which  might  be  called  the  belt  of  death.'  When 
Trelawny  arrived  in  the  early  spring,  he  found  most 
of  the  strangers  suffering  from  gastric  fevers.  He 
waded  through  the  streets,  '  between  wind  and  water,' 
to  the  house  where  Byron  had  lived  —  a  detached 
building  on  the  margin  of  the  shallow,  slimy  sea- 
waters. 

Such,  then,  was  the  residence  which  was  destined  to 
be  the  last  home  of  the  author  of  '  Childe  Harold  !' 

Byron  had  scarcely  reached  the  modest  apartment 
which  had  been  assigned  to  him,  when  he  was  greeted 
by  the  tumultuous  visits  of  the  Primates  and  chiefs. 
All  the  chieftains  of  Western  Greece — that  :s  to  say, 
the  mountainous  districts  occupied  by  the  Greeks — 
were  now  collected  at  Missolonghi  in  a  general 
assembly,  together  with  many  of  the  Primates  of  the 
same  districts,  Mavrocordato,  at  that  time  Governor- 
General  of  the  province,  was  President  of  the  Assembly, 
with  a  bodyguard  of  5,000  armed  men.  The  first 
object  of  this  assembly,  says  Gamba,  was  to  organize 
the  military  forces,  the  assignment  of  the  soldiers'  pay, 
and  the  establishment  of  the  national  constitution  and 
some  regular  form  of  government  for  Western  Greece. 
The  chieftains  were  not  all  of  them  well  disposed 
towards  Mavrocordato  ;  the  soldiers  were  badly  paid — 
in  fact,  hardly  paid  at  all ;  and  so  great  was  the  fear  of 
disturbances,  quarrels,  and  even  of  a  civil  war,  that 
without  the  influence  of  Prince  Mavrocordato,  and  the 
presence  of  Byron  with  his  money,  there  could  have 
been  no  harmony. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Turks,  who  had  blockaded 
Missolonghi,  there  was  a  general  feeling  of  security, 
and  no  one  expected  them  to  return  before  the  spring. 
The  Peloponnesus,  with  exception  of  the  castles  of 


AN  ACT  OF  GRACE  89 

the  Morea  and  of  Patras,  of  Modon  and  of  Covon,  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  Greeks.  The  northern  shore  of 
the  Gulf  of  Lepanto,  with  the  exception  of  the  two 
castles,  were  also  in  Greek  hands.  They  swayed 
Boeotia  and  Attica,  together  with  the  whole  isthmus 
of  Corinth. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Byron  arrived  on 
that  dismal  swamp.  The  position  in  which  he  found 
himself  required  much  skill  and  tact ;  for  the  dissen- 
sion among  the  various  leaders  in  other  parts  of 
Greece  was  in  its  bitterest  phase,  and  public  opinion 
everywhere  was  dead  against  the  executive  body.  It 
would  have  been  fatal  to  the  prestige  of  Byron  if,  in  a 
moment  of  impetuosity,  he  had  cast  in  his  lot  with 
some  particular  faction.  It  was  his  fixed  intention,  as 
it  was  clearly  his  best  policy,  to  reconcile  differences, 
and  to  bring  the  contending  factions  closer  together. 
His  influence  amongst  all  parties  was  daily  increasing, 
and  everyone  believed  that  Byron  would  eventually 
be  able  to  bring  discordant  voices  into  harmony,  and 
pave  the  way  for  the  formation  of  a  strong,  patriotic 
Government.  He  faced  the  situation  bravely,  and 
closed  his  ears  to  the  unworthy  squabbles  of  ambitious 
cliques.  He  made  arrangements,  with  the  best  assist- 
ance at  hand,  to  turn  the  expected  loan  from  England 
to  the  best  account,  in  order  to  insure  the  freedom 
and  independence  of  Greece. 

The  first  day  of  his  arrival  at  Missolonghi  was 
signalized  by  an  act  of  grace.  A  Turk,  who  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  some  Greek  sailors,  was 
released  by  Byron's  orders,  and,  having  been  clothed 
and  fed  at  his  own  expense,  was  given  quarters  at 
Byron's  house  until  an  opportunity  occurred  of  sending 
him  in  freedom  to   Patras.     About  a  fortnight  later, 


90      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

hearing  that  four  Turkish  prisoners  were  at  Misso- 
longhi  in  a  state  of  destitution,  Byron  caused  them  to 
be  set  at  liberty,  and  sent  them  to  Usouff  Pacha  at 
Patras,  with  a  letter  which,  though  it  has  been  often 
printed,  deserves  a  place  in  this  narrative  : 

'  Highness  ! 

'  A  vessel,  in  which  a  friend  and  some  domestics 
of  mine  were  embarked,  was  detained  a  few  days  ago, 
and  released  by  order  of  your  Highness.  I  have  now 
to  thank  you,  not  for  liberating  the  vessel,  which  as 
carrying  a  neutral  flag,  and  being  under  British  pro- 
tection, no  one  had  a  right  to  detain,  but  for  having 
treated  my  friends  with  so  much  kindness  while  they 
were  in  your  hands. 

*  In  the  hope  that  it  may  not  be  altogether  displeasing 
to  your  Highness,  I  have  requested  the  Governor  of 
this  place  to  release  four  Turkish  prisoners,  and  he 
has  humanely  consented  to  do  so.  I  lose  no  time, 
therefore,  in  sending  them  back,  in  order  to  make  as 
early  a  return  as  I  could,  for  your  courtesy  on  the  late 
occasion.  These  prisoners  are  liberated  without  any 
conditions ;  but  should  the  circumstance  find  a  place 
in  your  recollection,  I  venture  to  beg  that  your  High- 
ness will  treat  such  Greeks  as  may  henceforth  fall 
into  your  hands,  with  humanity ;  more  especially  as 
the  horrors  of  war  are  sufficiently  great  in  themselves, 
vvithout  being  aggravated  by  wanton  cruelties  on 
either  side. 

'  Noel  Byron. 

'  MiSSOLONGHI, 

'■January  23,  1824.' 

This  letter  was  the  keynote  of  Byron's  policy  during 
the  remainder  of  his  life.  The  horrors  of  war  were 
sufficient  in  themselves  without  that  unnecessary 
cruelty  so  often  exhibited  by  Eastern  nations  in  their 
treatment  of  prisoners  of  war. 

The  following  account  of  an  incident  connected  with 
Byron's  clemency  to  a  prisoner  pictures  the  state  of 
things  at  Missolonghi. 


PREPARATIONS  AGAINST  LEPANTO     91 

'  This  evening,'  says  Gamba,  '  whilst  Mavrocordato 
was  with  Lord  Byron,  two  sailors  belonging  to  the 
privateer  which  had  taken  the  Turk  came  into  the 
room,  demanding  in  an  insolent  tone  that  their  prisoner 
should  be  delivered  up  to  them.  Lord  Byron  refused  ; 
their  importunity  became  more  violent,  and  they  refused 
to  leave  the  room  without  their  Turk  (such  was  their 
expression)  on  which  Lord  Byron,  presenting  a  pistol 
at  the  intruders,  threatened  to  proceed  to  extremities 
unless  they  instantly  retired.  The  sailors  withdrew, 
but  Byron  complained  to  Mavrocordato  of  his  want  of 
authority,  and  said  to  him  :  "  If  your  Government  can- 
not protect  me  in  my  own  house,  I  will  find  means  to 
protect  myself."  From  that  time  Lord  Byron  retained 
a  Suliote  guard  in  his  house,' 

During  the  winter  preparations  were  being  made 
for  an  expedition  against  Lepanto,  a  fortress  which, 
if  captured  by  the  Greeks,  would  facilitate  the  siege  of 
Patras.  Its  fortifications  were  constructed  on  the 
slope  of  a  hill,  forming  a  triangle,  the  base  of  which 
was  close  to  the  sea.  Its  walls  were  of  Venetian 
construction,  but  without  ditches.  As  portions  of  its 
walls  were  commanded  by  a  neighbouring  hill,  its 
siege  would  have  proved  a  very  arduous  undertaking 
even  with  regular  troops  ;  but  with  raw  Greek  levies 
its  reduction,  except  by  famine,  would  have  been  almost 
impossible.  On  January  14,  1824,  Colonel  Stanhope 
writes  to  Mr.  Bowring  in  the  following  terms  :  *  Lord 
Byron  has  taken  500  Suliotes  into  pay.  He  burns  with 
military  ardour  and  chivalry,  and  will  proceed  with 
the  expedition  to  Lepanto.'  Circumstances  were,  how- 
ever, against  this  expedition  from  the  very  beginning. 
Great  hopes  had  been  entertained  by  Lord  Byron  and 
by  Colonel  Stanhope  that  the  Suliotes  would  conform 
to  discipline,  and  that  Mr.  Parry,  who  had  been  sent 
out  by  the  Greek  Committee  with  stores  and  ammuni- 
tion, would  on  his  arrival  organize  the  artillery,  and 


92      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

manufacture  Congreve  rockets — a  projectile  of  which 
the  Turks  were  said  to  be  in  great  awe. 

Parry  arrived  at  Missolonghi  early  in  February,  on 
board  the  brig  Anna,  which  had  been  chartered  by  the 
London  Greek  Committee.  He  brought  cannons, 
ammunition,  printing-presses,  medicines,  and  all  the 
apparatus  necessary  for  the  establishment  of  a  military 
laboratory.  Several  English  mechanics  came  with 
him,  and  some  English,  German,  and  Swedish  gentle- 
men, who  wished  to  serve  the  Greek  cause. 

Mr.  (or,  as  he  was  afterwards  called)  Major,  Parry 
was  a  peculiar  person  in  every  way.  He  had  at  one 
time  served  as  a  shipwright,  then  as  Firemaster  in  the 
King's  service,  and  won  favour  with  Byron  through 
his  buffoonery  and  plain  speaking — two  very  useful 
qualifications  in  environments  of  stress  and  duplicity. 
When  Byron  appointed  him  Major  in  the  Artillery 
Brigade,  the  best  officers  in  the  brigade  tendered  their 
resignations,  stating  that,  while  they  would  be  proud 
to  serve  under  Lord  Byron,  neither  their  honour  nor 
the  interests  of  the  service  would  allow  them  to  serve 
under  a  man  who  had  no  practical  experience  of 
military  evolutions.  The  German  officers  also,  who 
had  previously  served  in  the  Prussian  army,  appealed 
against  Parry's  appointment,  and  offered  proofs  of  his 
ignorance  of  artillery.  But  Byron  would  not  listen  to 
complaints,  which  he  attributed  partly  to  jealousy  and 
partly  to  German  notions  of  etiquette,  which  seemed 
to  him  to  be  wholly  out  of  place  in  a  country  where 
merit  rather  than  former  titles  should  regulate  such 
appointments. 

In  supporting  Parry  against  these  officers,  Byron 
was  in  a  measure  influenced  by  the  recommendations 
of  both  the  Greek  Committee  who  sent  him  out,  and 


MAJOR  PARRY  93 

of  Colonel  Leicester  Stanhope,  who  at  that  time  con- 
sidered Parry  to  be  an  exceedingly  capable  officer. 
Perhaps,  if  Parry  had  not  appeared  on  parade  in 
an  apron,  brandishing  a  hammer,  and  if  he  had  not 
asserted  himself  so  extravagantly,  he  might  possibly 
have  passed  muster.  But  tact  and  modesty  were  not 
in  Parry's  line;  and  having  boasted  to  the  London 
Committee  that  he  was  acquainted  with  almost  every 
branch  of  military  mechanics,  he  bullied  its  members 
into  a  belief  that  his  pretentions  were  well  founded. 
As  a  matter  of  fact.  Parry  proved  to  be  unsuited  for 
high  command,  although  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
worked  indefatigably.  He  made  plans  for  the  erection 
of  a  laboratory,  and  presided  over  the  works.  He 
paved  the  yard  of  the  Seraglio,  repaired  the  batteries, 
instructed  the  troops  in  musketry  and  gunnery ;  he 
gave  lessons  with  the  broadsword,  inspected  the  forti- 
fications, and  directed  the  operations  of  Cocchini,  the 
chief  engineer.  He  repaired  gun-carriages,  and  put 
his  hand  to  anything  wanted,  so  that  it  appeared  as 
if  really  nothing  could  be  done  without  him.  In  one 
thing  only  did  Parry  seem  to  fall  short  of  general 
expectation.  He  had  boasted  that  he  knew  the  com- 
position of  *  Congreve  rockets.'  With  this  mighty 
instrument  of  mischief  he  prophesied  that  the  Greeks 
would  be  able  to  paralyze  all  the  efforts  of  their  enemy, 
both  by  land  and  sea.  The  Turkish  cavalry,  the  only 
arm  against  which  the  Greeks  were  impotent,  would 
be  rendered  useless,  and  the  Turkish  vessels,  by  the 
same  means,  would  be  easily  destroyed. 

Unfortunately,  the  manufacture  of  these  rockets  was 
impossible  without  the  assistance  of  the  English 
mechanics  whom  he  had  brought  with  him,  and  these 
men  were  unable  to  work  without  materials,  which  were 


94      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

not  obtainable.  Thus  the  principal  part  of  Parry's 
'  stock-in-trade ' — his  rockets,  incendiary  kites,  and 
improved  Grecian  fires — were  not  forthcoming. 

For  a  long  time  the  roads  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Missolonghi  were  so  broken  up  by  incessant  rain  that 
Byron  could  not  ride  or  take  any  outdoor  exercise. 
This  affected  his  health.  His  only  means  of  getting  a 
little  fresh  air  was  by  paddling  through  the  murky 
waters  in  a  sort  of  canoe.  During  these  expeditions, 
says  Gamba,  who  always  accompanied  him,  he  spoke 
often  of  his  anxiety  to  begin  the  campaign.  He  had 
not  much  hope  of  success,  but  felt  that  something 
must  be  done  during  these  tedious  months,  if  only  to 
employ  the  troops  and  keep  them  from  creating  dis- 
turbances in  the  town. 

*  I  am  not  come  here  in  search  of  adventures,'  said 
Byron,  'but  to  assist  the  regeneration  of  a  nation,  whose 
very  debasement  makes  it  more  honourable  to  become 
their  friend.  Regular  troops  are  certainly  necessary, 
but  not  in  great  num.bers  :  regular  troops  alone  would 
not  succeed  in  a  country  like  Greece ;  and  irregular 
troops  alone  are  only  just  better  than  nothing.  Only 
let  the  loan  be  raised;  and  in  the  meantime  let  us 
try  to  form  a  strong  national  Government,  ready  to 
apply  our  pecuniary  resources,  when  they  arrive,  to 
the  organization  of  troops,  the  establishment  of 
internal  civilization,  and  the  preparations  for  acting 
defensively  now,  and  on  the  offensive  next  winter. 
Nothing  is  so  insupportable  to  me  as  all  these  minute 
details  and  these  repeated  delays.  But  patience  is  in- 
dispensable, and  that  I  find  the  most  difficult  of  all 
attainments.' 

It  was  Byron's  custom  to  spend  his  evenings  in 
Colonel  Stanhope's  room,  with  his  English  comrades. 
Sometimes  the  Germans  would  join  the  party,  play  on 
their  flutes,  and  sing  their  national  airs  to  the  accom- 


A  PRACTICAL  JOKE  95 

paniment  of  a  guitar.  Byron  was  fond  of  music  in 
general,  and  was  especially  partial  to  German  music, 
particularly  to  their  national  songs. 

Millingen  tells  us  that  in  the  evening  all  the 
English  who  had  not,  with  Colonel  Stanhope,  turned 
Odysseans  assembled  at  Byron's  house,  and  enjoyed 
the  charm  of  his  conversation  till  late  at  night. 
Byron's  character,  says  Millingen, 

'differed  so  much  from  what  I  had  been  induced  to 
imagine  from  the  relations  of  travellers,  that  either 
their  reports  must  have  been  inaccurate,  or  his 
character  must  have  totally  changed  after  his  de- 
parture from  Genoa.  It  would  be  difficult,  indeed 
impossible,  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  pleasure  his  con- 
versation afforded.  Among  his  works,  that  which 
may  perhaps  be  more  particularly  regarded  as  exhibit- 
ing the  mirror  of  his  conversation,  and  the  spirit 
which  animated  it,  is  "  Don  Juan."  He  was  indeed  too 
open,  and  too  indiscreet  in  respect  to  the  reminiscences 
of  his  early  days.  Sometimes,  when  his  vein  of 
humour  flowed  more  copiously  than  usual,  he  would 
play  tricks  on  individuals.  Fletcher's  boundless 
credulity  afforded  him  an  ever-ready  fund  of  amuse- 
ment, and  he  one  evening  planned  a  farce,  which  was 
as  well  executed  and  as  laughable  as  any  ever  exhibited 
on  the  stage.  Having  observed  how  nervous  Parry 
had  been,  a  few  days  before,  during  an  earthquake,  he 
felt  desirous  of  renewing  the  ludicrous  sight  which 
the  fat,  horror-struck  figure  of  the  Major  had  exhibited 
on  that  occasion.  He  placed,  therefore,  fifty  of  his 
Suliotes  in  the  room  above  that  w^here  Parry  slept,  and 
towards  midnight  ordered  them  to  shake  the  house,  so 
as  to  imitate  that  phenomenon.  He  himself  at  the 
same  time  banged  the  doors,  and  rushed  downstairs, 
delighted  to  see  the  almost  distracted  Major  imploring 
tremblingly  the  mercy  of  heaven.' 

Lord  Byron  was  very  much  taken  with  Parry, 
whose  drolleries  relieved  the  tedium  and  constant 
vexations  incidental   to  the  situation  at  Missolonghi. 


96      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

The  Major  appears  to  have  been  an  excellent  mimic,  and 
possessed  a  fund  of  quaint  expressions  that  made  up  for 
the  deficiency  of  real  wit.  Millingen  says  that  he  could 
tell,  in  his  coarse  language,  a  good  story,  and  could 
play  Falstaff's,  or  the  part  of  a  clown  very  naturally. 
He  ranted  Richard  HI.'s  or  Hamlet's  soliloquies  in  a 
mock-tragic  manner  like  a  player  at  Bartholomew  Fair, 
which  made  everyone  laugh,  and  beguiled  the  length 
of  many  a  rainy  evening. 

On  January  21,  1824,  Missolonghi  was  blockaded 
by  the  Turkish  fleet.  There  were  neither  guns  nor 
even  sailors  fit  to  man  the  gunboats ;  the  only  chance 
was  to  make  a  night  attack  upon  the  Turks  in  boats 
manned  by  the  European  volunteers  then  residing  at 
Missolonghi.  Byron  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and 
insisted  on  joining  personally  in  the  expedition.  He 
was  so  determined  on  this  project  that  Mavrocordato 
and  others,  realizing  the  folly  of  exposing  so  valuable 
a  life  on  so  desperate  an  enterprise,  dissuaded  Byron 
from  risking  his  valuable  life  in  a  business  for  which 
there  were  already  sufficient  volunteers.  As  things 
turned  out,  it  did  not  much  matter,  for  the  Turkish 
fleet  suddenly  abandoned  the  blockade  and  returned 
to  the  gulf. 

On  January  22,  while  Colonel  Stanhope  and  some 
friends  were  assembled,  Byron  came  from  his  bedroom 
and  said,  with  a  smile  :  '  You  were  complaining  the 
other  day  that  I  never  write  any  poetry  now :  this  is 
my  birthday,  and  I  have  just  finished  something, 
which,  I  think,  is  better  than  what  I  usually  write.*  He 
then  produced  those  affecting  verses  on  his  own 
birthday  which  were  afterwards  found  written  in  his 
journal,  with  the  following  introduction  :  *  January  22  : 
on  this  day  I  complete  my  thirty-sixth  year.' 


A  PRESENTIMENT  OF  DEATH  97 

'  We  perceived  from  these  lines,'  says  Gamba,  *  as 
well  as  from  his  daily  conversations,  that  his  ambition 
and  his  hope  were  irrevocably  fixed  upon  the  glorious 
objects  of  his  expedition  to  Greece,  and  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  "  return  victorious,  or  return  no 
more."  Indeed,  he  often  said  to  me,  "  Others  may  do 
as  they  please — they  may  go — but  I  stay  here,  that  is 
certain." 

This  resolution  was  accompanied  with  the  natural 
presentiment  that  he  should  never  leave  Greece 
alive.  He  one  day  asked  his  faithful  servant  Tita 
whether  he  thought  of  returning  to  Italy.  *  Yes,' 
said  Tita;  'if  your  lordship  goes,  I  go.'  Lord  Byron 
smiled,  and  said  :  '  No,  Tita,  I  shall  never  go  back  from 
Greece ;  either  the  Turks,  or  the  Greeks,  or  the 
climate,  will  prevent  that.' 

Parry  tells  us  that  Byron's  mind  on  this  point  was 
irrevocably  fixed. 

'  My  future  intentions,'  he  said,  '  may  be  explained 
in  a  few  words.  I  will  remain  here  in  Greece  till  she 
is  secure  against  the  Turks,  or  till  she  has  fallen 
under  her  power.  All  my  income  shall  be  spent  in 
her  service  ;  but,  unless  driven  by  some  great  necessity, 
I  will  not  touch  a  farthing  of  the  sum  intended  for  my 
sister's  children.  Whatever  I  can  accomplish  with 
my  income,  and  my  personal  exertions,  shall  be  cheer- 
fully done.  When  Greece  is  secure  against  external 
enemies,  I  will  leave  the  Greeks  to  settle  their 
government  as  they  like.  One  service  more,  and  an 
eminent  service  it  will  be,  I  think  I  may  perform  for 
them.  You  shall  have  a  schooner  built  for  me,  or  I 
will  buy  a  vessel ;  the  Greeks  shall  invest  me  with 
the  character  of  their  Ambassador  or  agent ;  I  will 
go  to  the  United  States,  and  procure  that  free  and 
enlightened  Government,  to  set  the  example  of  recog- 
nizing the  Federation  of  Greece,  as  an  independent 
State.  This  done,  England  must  follow  the  example, 
and  then  the  fate  of  Greece  will  be  permanently 
fixed,   and   she   will   enter  into  all   her   rights,   as   a 


98      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

member   of   the    great    commonwealth    of   Christian 
Europe.  .  .  . 

The  cause  of  Greece  naturally  excites  our  sympathy. 
Her  people  are  Christians  contending  against  Turks, 
and  slaves  struggling  to  be  free.  There  never  was  a 
cause  which  had  such  strong  claims  on  the  sympathy 
of  the  people  of  Europe,  and  particularly  of  the  people 
of  England.'* 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  written  by 
Mr.  George  Finlay  in  June,  1824,  seems  worthy  of 
production  in  this  place: 

*  I  arrived  at  Missolonghi  at  the  latter  end  ot 
February.  During  my  stay  there,  in  the  forenoon  I 
rode  out  with  Lord  Byron  ;  and  generally  Mr.  Fowke 
and  myself  spent  the  evenings  in  his  room. 

*  In  our  rides,  the  state  of  Greece  was  the  usual 
subject  of  our  conversation ;  and  at  times  he  ex- 
pressed a  strong  wish  to  revisit  Athens.  I  mentioned 
the  great  cheapness  of  property  in  Attica,  and  the 
possibility  of  my  purchasing  some  of  the  villas  near 
the  city.  He  said  that,  if  I  could  find  any  eligible 
property,  he  would  have  no  objections  to  purchase 
likewise,  as  he  wished  to  have  some  real  property  in 
Greece ;  and  he  authorized  me  to  treat  for  him.  I 
always  urged  him  to  make  Corinth  his  headquarters. 
Sometimes  he  appeared  inclined  to  do  so,  and  re- 
marked, that  it  would  be  a  strange  coincidence  if,  after 
writing  an  unsuccessful  defence  of  Corinth,  he  should 
himself  make  a  successful  one.  An  event  so  fortunate, 
I  said,  would  leave  him  no  more  to  ask  from  fortune, 
and  reminded  him  how  very  much  of  fame  depends  on 
mere  accident.  Caesar's  conquests  and  his  works 
would  not  have  raised  his  fame  so  high,  but  for  the 
manner  of  his  death. 

'  In  the  evenings  Lord  Byron  was  generally  ex- 
tremely communicative,  and  talked  much  of  his  youth- 
ful scenes  at  Cambridge,  Brighton,  and  London ; 
spoke  very  often  of  his  friends,  Mr.  Hobhouse  and 
Mr.  Scrope  B.  Davies — told  many  anecdotes  of  him- 
self which  are  well  known,  and   many  which  were 

*  Parry,  p.  170. 


EVENINGS  AT  MISSOLONGHI  99 

amusing  from  his  narration,  but  which  would  lose 
their  interest  from  another;  but  what  astonished  me 
the  most  was  the  ease  with  which  he  spoke  of  all 
those  reports  which  were  spread  by  his  enemies — he 
gave  his  denials  and  explanations  with  the  frankness 
of  an  unconcerned  person. 

*  I  often  spoke  to  him  about  Newstead  Abbey,  which 
I  had  visited  in  1821,  a  few  months  before  leaving 
England.  On  informing  him  of  the  repairs  and  im- 
provements which  were  then  going  on,  he  said,  if  he 
had  been  rich  enough,  he  should  have  liked  to  have 
kept  it  as  the  old  abbey  ;  but  he  enjoyed  the  excellent 
bargain  he  had  made  at  the  sale.  A  solicitor  sent 
him  a  very  long  bill,  and,  on  his  grumbling  at  the 
amount,  he  said  he  was  silenced  by  a  letter,  remind- 
ing him  that  he  had  received  ;^20,ooo  forfeit-money 
from  the  first  purchaser.  I  mentioned  the  picture  of 
his  bear  in  the  cottage  near  the  lodge — the  Newfound- 
land dog  and  the  verses  on  its  tomb.  He  said,  New- 
foundland dogs  had  twice  saved  his  life,  and  that  he 
could  not  live  without  one. 

'  He  spoke  frequently  of  the  time  he  lived  at 
Aberdeen.  Their  house  was  near  the  college.  He 
described  the  place,  but  I  have  forgotten  it.  He  said 
his  mother's  "lassack"  used  to  put  him  to  bed  at  a 
very  early  hour,  and  then  go  to  converse  with  her 
lover;  he  had  heard  the  house  was  haunted,  and 
sometimes  used  to  get  out  of  bed  and  run  along  the 
lobby  in  his  shirt,  till  he  saw  a  light,  and  there  remain 
standing  till  he  was  so  cold  he  was  forced  to  go  to 
bed  again.  One  night  the  servant  returning,  he  grew 
frightened  and  ran  towards  his  room ;  the  maid  saw 
him,  and  fled  more  frightened  than  he  ;  she  declared 
she  had  seen  a  ghost.  Lord  Byron  said,  he  was  so 
frightened  at  the  maid,  he  kept  the  secret  till  she  was 
turned  away ;  and,  he  added,  he  never  since  kept  a 
secret  half  so  long.  The  first  passion  he  ever  felt 
was  for  a  young  lady  who  was  on  a  visit  to  his 
mother  while  they  lived  in  Scotland ;  he  was  at  the 
time  about  six  years  old,  and  the  young  lady  about 
nine,  yet  he  was  almost  ill  on  her  leaving  his  mother's 
house  to  return  home.  He  told  me,  if  I  should  ever 
meet  the  lady  (giving  me  her  address),  to  ask  her  if 
she  remembers  him.     On  some  conversation  about  the 

7—2 


loo     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

"  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,"  he  gave  as  a 
reason  for  his  attacking  many  of  the  persons  included, 
that  he  was  informed,  some  time  before  the  publica- 
tion of  the  review,  that  the  next  number  was  to 
contain  an  article  on  his  poems  which  had  been  read 
at  Holland  House.  "Judge  of  my  fever  ;  was  it  not  a 
pleasant  situation  for  a  young  author  ?" 

Tn  conversation  he  used  to  deliver  very  different 
opinions  on  many  authors  from  those  contained  in  his 
works  ;  in  the  one  case  he  might  be  guided  more  by 
his  judgment,  and  in  the  other  submit  entirely  to  his 
own  particular  taste.  I  have  quoted  his  writings  in 
opposition  to  his  words,  and  he  replied,  "  Never  mind 
what  I  print ;  that  is  not  what  I  think."  He  certainly 
did  not  consider  much  of  the  poetry  of  the  present 
day  as  "  possessing  buoyancy  enough  to  float  down 
the  stream  of  time."  I  remarked,  he  ought  really  to 
alter  the  passage  in  the  preface  of  "  Marino  Faliero," 
on  living  dramatic  talent;  he  exclaimed,  laughing, 
"  Do  you  mean  me  to  erase  the  name  of  moral  me .?" 
In  this  manner  he  constantly  distinguished  Milman, 
alluding  to  some  nonsense  in  the  Quarterly  Review. 
He  was  extremely  amused  with  Blackwood's  Magazine, 
and  read  it  whenever  he  could  get  a  number ;  he 
has  frequently  repeated  to  me  passages  of  Ensign 
O'Doherty's  poetry,  which  I  had  not  read,  and  ex- 
pressed great  astonishment  at  the  ability  displayed  by 
the  author. 

*On  a  gentleman  present  once  asking  his  opinion  of 
the  works  of  a  female  author  of  some  note,  he  said, 
"  A  bad  imitation  of  me — all  pause  and  start." 

*  On  my  borrowing  Mitford's  "History  of  Greece" 
from  him,  and  saying  I  had  read  it  once,  and  intended 
commencing  it  again  in  Greece,  he  said,  "  I  hate  the 
book ;  it  makes  you  too  well  acquainted  with  the 
ancient  Greeks,  and  robs  antiquity  of  all  its  charms. 
History  in  his  hands,  has  no  poetry." 

*  I  was  in  the  habit  of  praising  Sir  William  Cell's 
Itineraries  to  Lord  B.,  and  he,  on  the  other  hand, 
took  every  opportunity  of  attacking  his  Argolis, 
though  his  attacks  were  chiefly  directed  against  the 
drawings,  and  particularly  the  view  of  the  bay.  He 
told  me  he  was  the  author  of  the  article  on  Sir 
W.  Gell's  Argolis  in  the  Monthly  Review,  and  said  he 


BYRON'S  OPINION  OF  SHAKESPEARE     loi 

had  written  two  other  articles  in  this  work  ;   but   I 
have  forgotten  them.* 

'  Whenever  the  drama  was  mentioned,  he  defended 
the  unities  most  eagerly,  and  usually  attacked  Shak- 
speare.  A  gentleman  present,  on  hearing  his  anti- 
Shakspearean  opinions,  rushed  out  of  the  room,  and 
afterwards  entered  his  protest  most  anxiously  against 
such  doctrines.  Lord  B.  was  quite  delighted  with 
this,  and  redoubled  the  severity  of  his  criticism.  I 
had  heard  that  Shelley  once  said  to  Lord  B,  in  his 
extraordinary  way,  "  B.,  you  are  a  most  wonderful 
man."  "  How  ?"  **  You  are  envious  of  Shakspeare." 
I,  therefore,  never  expressed  the  smallest  astonishment 
at  hearing  Shakspeare  abused  ;  but  remarked,  it  was 
curious  that  Lord  B.  was  so  strangely  conversant  in 
an  author  of  such  inferior  merit,  and  that  he  should  so 
continually  have  the  most  melodious  lines  of  Shak- 
speare in  his  mouth  as  examples  of  blank  verse.  He 
said  once,  when  we  were  alone,  "  I  like  to  astonish 
Englishmen :  they  come  abroad  full  of  Shakspeare, 
and  contempt  for  the  dramatic  literature  of  other 
nations  ;  they  think  it  blasphemy  to  find  a  fault  in  his 
writings,  which  are  full  of  them.  People  talk  of  the 
tendency  of  my  writings,  and  yet  read  the  sonnets  to 
Master  Hughes."  Lord  B.  certainly  did  not  admire 
the  French  tragedians  enthusiastically.  I  said  to  him, 
"  There  is  a  subject  for  the  Drama  which,  I  believe, 
has  never  been  touched,  and  which,  I  think,  affords 
the  greatest  possible  scope  for  the  representation  of 
all  that  is  sublime  in  human  character — but  then  it 
would  require  an  abandonment  of  the  unities — the 
attack  of  Maurice  of  Saxony  on  Charles  V.,  which 
saved  the  Protestant  religion ;  it  is  a  subject  of  more 
than  national  interest."  He  said  it  was  certainly  a  fine 
subject;  but  he  held  that  the  drama  could  not  exist 
without  a  strict  adherence  to  the  unities  ;  and  besides, 
he  knew  well  he  had  failed  in  his  dramatic  attempts, 
and  that  he  intended  to  make  no  more.  He  said  he 
thought  "  Sardanapalus  "  his  best  tragedy. 

'The  memory  of  Lord  B.  was  very  extraordinary; 
it  was  not  the  mere  mechanical  memory  which  can 

*  Byron  wrote  a  review  of  Wordsworth's  '  Poems '  in  Monthly 
Literary  Recreations  for  July,  1807,  and  a  review  of  Gell's  '  Geography 
of  Ithaca'  in  the  Montlily  Review  for  August,  181 1. 


I02     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

repeat  the  advertisements  of  a  newspaper  and  such 
nonsense;  but  of  all  the  innumerable  novels  which  he 
had  read,  he  seemed  to  recollect  perfectly  the  story 
and  every  scene  of  merit. 

'  Once  I  had  a  bet  with  Mr.  Fowke  that  Maurice  of 
Orange  was  not  the  grandson  of  Maurice  of  Saxony, 
as  it  ran  in  my  head  that  Maurice  was  a  son  of  Count 
Horn's  sister.  On  applying  for  a  decision  of  our  bet 
to  Lord  B.,  he  immediately  told  me  I  was  wrong,  that 
William  of  Orange  was  thrice  married,  and  that  he 
had  Maurice  by  a  daughter  of  Maurice  of  Saxony  :  he 
repeated  the  names  of  all  the  children.  I  said,  "This  is 
the  most  extraordinary  instance  of  your  memory  I 
ever  heard."  He  replied,  "  It's  not  very  extraordinary 
— I  read  it  all  a  few  days  ago  in  Watson's  "  Philip  H.," 
and  you  will  find  it  in  a  note  at  the  bottom  of  the  last 
page  but  one"  (I  think  he  said)  "of  the  second  volume." 
He  went  to  his  bedroom  and  brought  the  book,  in 
which  we  found  the  note  he  had  repeated.  It  seemed 
to  me  wonderful  enough  that  such  a  man  could 
recollect  the  names  of  William  of  Orange's  children 
and  their  families  even  for  ten  minutes. 

*  Once,  on  receiving  some  newspapers,  in  reading  the 
advertisements  of  new  publications  aloud,  I  read  the 
name  of  Sir  Aubrey  de  Vere  Hunt ;  Lord  B.  instantly 
said,  "  Sir  Aubrey  was  at  Harrow,  I  remember,  but  he 
was  younger  than  me.  He  was  an  excellent  swimmer, 
and  once  saved  a  boy's  life ;  nobody  would  venture  in, 
and  the  boy  was  nearl}^  drowned,  when  Sir  Aubrey 
was  called.  The  boy's  name  was  M'Kinnon,  and  he 
went  afterwards  to  India."  I  think  B.  said  he  died 
there. 

' "  It  is  strange,"  I  replied ;  "  I  heard  this  very 
circumstance  from  Sir  Aubrey  de  Vere  Hunt,  who 
inquired  if  I  knew  the  boy,  who  must  now  be  a  man, 
but  said,  I  think,  that  his  name  was  Mackenzie." 
"  Depend  upon  it,  I  am  right,"  said  Byron. 

'  Lord  B.  said  he  had  kept  a  very  exact  journal  of 
every  circumstance  of  his  life,  and  many  of  his 
thoughts  while  young,  that  he  had  let  Mr.  Hobhouse 
see  it  in  Albania,  and  that  he  at  last  persuaded 
him  to  burn  it.  He  said  Hobhouse  had  robbed  the 
world  of  a  treat.  He  used  to  say  that  many  of  his 
acquaintances,  particularly  his  female  ones,  while  he 


MOTTO  FOR  THE  'GREEK  TELEGRAPH'  103 

was  in  London,  did  not  like  Mr.  Hobhouse,  "  for  they 
thought  he  kept  me  within  bounds." 

'  When  he  was  asked  for  a  motto  for  the  Greek 
Telegraph,  by  Gamba,  during  the  time  he  felt  averse 
to  the  publication  of  a  European  newspaper  in  Greece, 
he  gave,  "To  the  Greeks  foolishness" — in  allusion  to 
the  publication  in  languages  which  the  natives  gener- 
ally do  not  understand. 

'  On  a  discussion  in  his  presence  concerning  the 
resemblance  of  character  between  the  ancient  and 
modern  Greeks,  he  said  :  "At  least  we  have  St.  Paul's 
authority  that  they  had  their  present  character  in  his 
time ;  for  he  says  there  is  no  difference  between  the 
Jew  and  the  Greek." 

*A  few  days  before  I  left  Missolonghi,  riding  out 
together,  he  told  me  that  he  had  received  a  letter  from 
his  sister,  in  which  she  mentioned  that  one  of  the 
family  had  displayed  some  poetical  talent,  but  that 
she  would  not  tell  him  who,  as  she  hoped  she  should 
hear  no  more  of  it.  I  said  "  That  is  a  strange  wish  from 
the  sister  of  such  a  poet."  He  replied  that  he  believed 
the  poetical  talent  was  always  a  source  of  pain,  and 
that  he  certainly  would  have  been  happier  had  he 
never  written  a  line. 

'Those  only  who  were  personally  acquainted  with 
him  can  be  aware  of  the  influence  which  every  passing 
event  had  over  his  mind,  or  know  the  innumerable 
modifications  under  which  his  character  was  daily 
presenting  itself;  even  his  writings  took  a  shade  of 
colouring  from  those  around  him.  His  passions  and 
feelings  were  so  lively  that  each  occurrence  made  a 
strong  impression,  and  his  conduct  became  so  entirely 
governed  by  impulse  that  he  immediately  and  vehe- 
mently declared  his  sentiments.  It  is  not  wonderful, 
therefore,  that  instances  of  his  inconsistency  should 
be  found  ;  though  in  the  most  important  actions  of  his 
life  he  has  acted  with  no  common  consistency,  and  his 
death  attests  his  sincerity.  To  attempt  by  scattered 
facts  to  illustrate  his  character  is  really  useless.  A 
hundred  could  be  immediately  told  to  prove  him  a 
miser ;  as  many  to  prove  him  the  most  generous  of 
men;  an  equal  number,  perhaps,  to  show  he  was 
nervously  alive  to  the  distresses  of  others,  or  heart- 
lessly unfeeling;  at  times  that  he  indulged  in  every 


I04     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

desire  ;  at  others,  that  he  pursued  the  most  determined 
system  of  self-denial ;  that  he  ridiculed  his  friends,  or 
defended  them  with  the  greatest  anxiety.  At  one  time 
he  was  all  enthusiasm  ;  at  another  perfect  indifference 
on  the  very  same  subject.  All  this  would  be  true,  and 
yet  our  inference  most  probably  incorrect.  Such  hearts 
as  Lord  B.'s  must  become  old  at  an  early  age,  from 
the  continual  excitement  to  which  they  are  exposed, 
and  those  only  can  judge  fairly  of  him,  even  from  his 
personal  acquaintance,  who  knew  him  from  his  youth, 
when  his  feelings  were  warmer  than  they  could  be 
latterly.  From  some  of  those  who  have  seen  the 
whole  course  of  his  wonderful  existence,  we  may, 
indeed,  expect  information ;  and  it  is  information,  not 
scandal,  that  will  be  sought  for.' 


CHAPTER  IX 

MiLLiNGEN  tells  US  that  Byron,  even  before  his  arrival 
in  Greece,  was  a  favourite  among  the  people  and 
soldiers.  Popular  imagination  had  been  kindled  by 
reports  of  his  genius,  his  wealth,  and  his  rank.  Every- 
thing that  a  man  could  perform  was  expected  of 
him ;  and  many  a  hardship  and  grievance  was  borne 
patiently,  in  hope  that  on  Byron's  arrival  everything 
would  be  set  right.  The  people  were  not  disap- 
pointed ;  his  conduct  towards  them  after  he  had 
landed  soon  made  him  a  popular  idol.  It  was  per- 
ceived that  Byron  was  not  a  theoretical,  but  a  practical, 
friend  to  Greece ;  and  his  repeated  acts  of  kindness 
and  charity  in  relieving  the  poor  and  distressed,  the 
heavy  expenses  he  daily  incurred  for  the  furtherance 
of  every  plan,  and  every  institution  which  he  deemed 
worthy  of  support,  showed  the  people  of  Missolonghi 
that  Byron  was  not  less  alive  to  their  private  than  he 
was  to  their  public  interests.  But  there  were  some 
people,  of  course,  who  felt  a  slight  attack  of  that 
pernicious  malady  known  euphuistically  as  *  the  green- 
eyed  monster.'  Mavrocordato,  the  Governor-General 
of  Western  Greece,  was,  according  to  Millingen, 
slightly  afflicted  with  envy.  He  had  imagined,  when 
using  every  means  during  Byron's  stay  at  Cephalonia 

105 


io6  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

to  induce  him  to  come  to  Missolonghi,  that  he  was 
preparing  for  himself  a  powerful  instrument  to  execute 
his  own  designs,  and  that,  by  placing  Byron  in  a 
prominent  position  which  would  require  far  more 
knowledge  of  the  state  of  things  than  Byron  could 
possibly  possess,  he  would  helplessly  drift,  and 
eventually  fall  entirely  under  his  own  guidance.  But 
in  this  Mavrocordato  was  entirely  mistaken,  for  Byron 
had  long  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  course  which  he 
meant  to  steer,  and  by  sheer  honesty  of  purpose 
and  by  the  glamour  of  his  fame  his  authority  daily 
increased,  while  that  of  Mavrocordato  fell  in  propor- 
tion, until  his  high-sounding  title  was  little  better 
than  an  empty  phrase.  The  people  of  Missolonghi 
were  fascinated  by  the  personality  of  a  man  who  had 
practically  thrown  his  whole  fortune  at  their  feet. 
They  openly  spoke  of  the  advantages  that  would 
be  derived  by  Western  Greece  were  Byron  to  be 
appointed  its  Governor-General. 

*  Ambitious  and  suspicious  by  nature,'  says  Millingen, 
'  Mavrocordato  felt  his  authority  aimed  at.  He  began 
by  seconding  his  supposed  rival's  measures  in  a  luke- 
warm manner,  whilst  he  endeavoured  in  secret  to 
thwart  them.  He  was  looked  upon  as  the  cause  of 
the  rupture  between  the  Suliotes  and  Lord  Byron, 
fearing  that  the  latter  might,  with  such  soldiers, 
become  too  powerful.' 

Byron  perceived  the  change  in  Mavrocordato's  con- 
duct, and  from  that  moment  lost  much  of  the  confidence 
which  he  had  at  first  felt  in  him. 

'  The  plain,  undisguised  manner  in  which  Byron 
expressed  himself  on  this  subject,  and  the  haughty 
manner  in  which  he  received  Mavrocordato,  tended 
to  confirm  the  latter's  opinion  that  Byron  sought  to 
supplant  him.' 


BYRON  AND  LEICESTER  STANHOPE     107 

Mavrocordato  thus  laboured  under  a  delusion.  Far 
from  having  ambitious  views,  Byron  would,  in  Millin- 
gen's  opinion,  have  refused,  if  the  offer  had  been  made 
to  him,  ever  to  take  a  part  in  civil  administration.  He 
knew  too  well  how  little  his  impetuous  character  fitted 
him  for  the  tedious  and  intricate  details  of  Greek  affairs. 
*  He  had  come  to  Greece  to  assist  her  sacred  cause 
with  his  wealth,  his  talents,  his  courage ;  and  the  only 
reward  he  sought  was  a  soldier's  grave.' 

Had  Lord  Byron  lived,  says  Millingen,  the  mis- 
understanding between  these  two  distinguished  indi- 
viduals would  have  been  merely  temporary.  Their 
principles  and  love  of  order  were  the  same,  as  also  the 
ends  they  proposed  to  attain.  However  different  were 
the  roads  upon  which  they  marched,  they  would  have 
been  sure  to  meet  at  last. 

'  Lord  Byron,'  wrote  Colonel  Stanhope,  '  possesses 
all  the  means  of  playing  a  great  part  in  the  glorious 
revolution  of  Greece.  He  has  talent ;  he  professes 
liberal  principles ;  he  has  money  ;  and  is  inspired  with 
fervent  and  chivalrous  feelings.' 

Colonel  Leicester  Stanhope  was  himself  deserving 
of  the  praise  which  he  thus  bestows  on  Byron,  the 
item  '  money  '  being  equally  discarded.  Colonel  Stan- 
hope was  a  chivalrous  gentleman,  and  devoted  himself 
heart  and  soul  to  the  regeneration  of  Greece.  But 
his  views  were  not  those  of  Byron.  He  was  all  for 
printing-presses,  freedom  of  the  press,  and  schools. 
Byron  was  all  for  fighting  and  organization  in  a 
military  sense.  Their  aims  were  the  same,  but  their 
methods  entirely  different.  Byron  recognized  the 
virtues  of  Stanhope,  and  never  seriously  opposed  any 
of  his  schemes.  Stanhope  was  absolutely  boiling  over 
with  enthusiasm  regarding  the  advantages  of  publish- 


io8  BYRON  :   THE  LAST  PHASE 

ing  a  newspaper.  His  paramount  policy,  as  he  states 
himself  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bowring,  was  '  to  strive  to 
offend  no  one,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  make  all  friendly 
to  the  press.'  He  contended  for  the  absolute  liberty 
of  the  press,  and  for  publicity  in  every  shape  !  It  would 
be  difficult  to  match  such  a  contention  applied  to  such 
a  period  and  such  a  people.  In  forwarding  the  third 
number  of  the  Greek  Chronicle  to  Mr.  Bowring,  Stan- 
hope writes:  'The  last  article  in  the  Chronicle  is  on 
Mr.  Bentham.  Its  object  is  to  dispose  the  people  to 
read  and  contemplate  his  works.  Conviction  follows.' 
Byron  had  a  peculiar  antipathy  to  Mr.  Bentham 
and  all  his  works,  but  he  provided  money  to  support 
the  Chronicle.  On  January  24  Colonel  Stanhope 
wrote  to  Mr.  Bowring  a  letter  which  explains  the 
position  exactly ;  and  a  very  peculiar  position  it  was. 
After  asking  Byron  whether  he  will  subscribe  ;^5o 
for  the  support  of  the  Greek  Chronicle,  which  Byron 
cheerfully  agreed  to  do.  Colonel  Stanhope  proceeds 
to  '  heckle '  him.  The  conversation  is  well  worth 
transcribing : 

'  Stanhope  {loquitur)  :  "  Your  lordship  stated  yester- 
day evening  that  you  had  said  to  Prince  Mavrocordato 
that,  '  were  you  in  his  place  (as  Governor-General  of 
Western  Greece),  you  would  have  placed  the  press 
under  a  censor,'  and  that  he  replied,  '  No ;  the  liberty 
of  the  press  is  guaranteed  by  the  Constitution.'  Now, 
I  wish  to  know  whether  your  lordship  was  serious 
when  you  made  the  observation,  or  whether  you  only 
said  so  to  provoke  me  ?  If  your  lordship  was  serious, 
I  shall  consider  it  my  duty  to  communicate  this  affair 
to  the  Committee  in  England,  in  order  to  show  them 
how  difficult  a  task  I  have  to  fulfil  in  promoting  the 
liberties  of  Greece,  if  your  lordship  is  to  throw  the 
weight  of  your  vast  talents  into  the  opposite  scale  on 
a  question  of  such  vital  importance." 

'  Byron,  in  reply,  said  that  he  was  an  ardent  friend  of 


BYRON  AND  JEREMY  BENTHAM        109 

publicity  and  the  press  ;  but  he  feared  that  it  was  not 
apphcable  to  this  society  in  its  present  combustible 
state.  Stanhope  replied  that  he  thought  it  applicable 
to  all  countries,  and  essential  in  Greece,  in  order  to 
put  an  end  to  the  state  of  anarchy  which  then  pre- 
vailed. Byron  said  that  he  was  afraid  of  libels  and 
licentiousness.  Stanhope  maintained  that  the  object 
of  a  free  press  was  to  check  public  licentiousness  and 
to  expose  libellers  to  odium.' 

In  a  subsequent  letter  to  Mr.  Bowring,  Colonel 
Stanhope  repeats  a  conversation  with  Byron  on  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Bentham.  One  does  not  know  whether 
to  laugh  or  cry ;  there  is  both  humour  and  pathos  in 
the  incident. 

'His  lordship,' writes  Stanhope,  'began,  according 
to  custom,  to  attack  Mr.  Bentham.  I  said  that  it  was 
highly  illiberal  to  make  personal  attacks  on  Mr. 
Bentham  before  a  friend  who  held  him  in  high  estima- 
tion. He  said  that  he  only  attacked  his  public 
principles,  which  were  mere  theories,  but  dangerous — 
injurious  to  Spain  and  calculated  to  do  great  mischief 
in  Greece.  I  did  not  object  to  his  lordship's  attacking 
Mr.  Bentham's  principles ;  what  I  objected  to  were  his 
personalities.  His  lordship  never  reasoned  on  any  of 
Mr.  Bentham's  writings,  but  merely  made  sport  of 
them.  I  therefore  asked  him  what  it  was  that  he 
objected  to.  Lord  Byron  mentioned  his  "Panopticon" 
as  visionary.  I  said  that  experience  in  Pennsylvania, 
at  Milbank,  etc.,  had  proved  it  otherwise.  I  said  that 
Bentham  had  a  truly  British  heart ;  but  that  Lord 
Byron,  after  professing  liberal  principles  from  his  boy- 
hood, had,  when  called  upon  to  act,  proved  himself 
a  Turk. 

*  Lord  Byron  asked  what  proofs  I  had  of  this. 

'I  replied  :  "  Your  conduct  in  endeavouring  to  crush 
the  press,  by  declaiming  against  it  to  Mavrocordato,  and 
your  general  abuse  of  Liberal  principles."  Lord  Byron 
said  that  if  he  had  held  up  his  finger  he  could  have 
crushed  the  press.  1  replied :  "  With  all  this  power, 
which,  by  the  way,  you  never  possessed,  you  went  to 
the  Prince  and  poisoned  his  ear." 


no  BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

'  Lord  Byron  declaimed  against  the  Liberals  whom 
he  knew. 

'  "  But  what  Liberals  ?"  I  asked.  Did  he  borrow  his 
notions  of  free  men  from  the  Itahans  ?  Lord  Byron 
said  :  "  No  ;  from  the  Hunts,  Cartwrights,  etc."  "  And 
still,"  said  1,  "  you  presented  Cartwright's  Reform 
Bill,  and  aided  Hunt  by  praising  his  poetry  and  giving 
him  the  sale  of  your  works." 

'  Lord  Byron  exclaimed :  "  You  are  worse  than 
Wilson,*  and  should  quit  the  army."  I  replied  that  I 
was  a  mere  soldier,  but  never  would  abandon  my 
principles.  Our  principles,'  continues  Stanhope,  '  are 
diametrically  opposite.  It  Lord  Byron  acts  up  to  his 
professions,  he  will  be  the  greatest — if  not,  the  meanest 
— of  mankind.  He  said  he  hoped  his  character  did  not 
depend  on  my  assertions.  **  No,"  said  I,  '*  your  genius 
has  immortalized  you.  The  worst  could  not  deprive 
you  of  fame." 

'  Lord  Byron  replied  :  "  Well,  you  shall  see  ;  judge 
me  by  my  acts." 

'  When  he  wished  me  good-night,  I  took  up  the  light 

*  General  Sir  Robert  Wilson  (1777- 1849),  commonly  known  as 
'  Jaffa  Wilson,'  entered  Parliament  in  1818.  Having  held  Napoleon 
up  to  horror  and  execration  for  his  cruelty  at  Jaffa,  Wilson  subse- 
quently became  one  of  his  strongest  eulogists.  Being  by  nature  a 
demagogue,  he  posed  as  a  champion  in  the  cause  of  freedom  and 
civil  government ;  he  accused  England  of  injustice  and  tyranny 
towards  other  nations,  and  prophesied  her  speedy  fall.  He  warmly 
espoused  the  cause  of  Queen  Caroline,  and  was  present  at  the  riot 
in  Hyde  Park  on  the  occasion  of  her  funeral,  wlien  there  was  a 
collision  between  the  Horse  Guards  and  the  mob.  For  his  conduct 
on  that  occasion,  despite  a  long  record  of  gallant  service  in  the  field, 
Wilson  was  dismissed  the  Army  in  1821,  but  was  reinstated  on  the 
accession  of  William  IV.  He  appears  to  have  been  both  foolish  and 
vain,  and  fond  of  creating  effect.  He  was  constantly  brooding  over 
services  which  he  conceived  to  have  been  overlooked,  and  merits 
which  he  fancied  were  neglected.  He  attached  himself  to  the  ultra- 
radicals, and  puffed  himself  into  notoriety  by  swimming  against  the 
stream.  A  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Review  (Vol.  xix,,  July,  1818)  says: 
'  The  obliquity  of  his  (Wilson's)  perceptions  make  his  talents  worse 
than  useless  as  a  politician,  and  form,  even  in  his  own  profession,  a 
serious  drawback  to  energy  however  great,  and  to  bravery  however 
distinguished.' 


STANHOPE  NO  SENSE  OF  HUMOUR    in 

to  conduct  him  to  the  passage,  but  he  said:  "What! 
hold  up  a  hght  to  a  Turk !" ' 

It  would  be  difficult  indeed  to  find  anything  in  the 
wide  range  of  literature  dealing  with  that  period  which 
would  throw  a  stronger  light  upon  both  these  men. 
Imagine  the  agent  appointed  by  the  London  Com- 
mittee wasting  his  precious  time  in  writing  such  a 
letter  as  this  for  the  information  of  its  chairman. 
Stanhope  meant  no  harm,  we  feel  sure  of  that;  but 
such  a  letter  was  little  calculated  to  advance  either  his 
own  reputation  or  Byron's,  and  it  was  above  all  things 
necessary  for  the  London  Committee  to  have  a  good 
opinion  of  both.  But  Stanhope  was  decidedly  im- 
petuous, and  lacked  all  sense  of  humour. 

Millingen  tells  us  that  it  soon  became  evident  that 
little  co-operation  could  be  expected  between  Byron 
and  Colonel  Stanhope.  Byron  was  fully  persuaded 
that,  in  the  degraded  state  of  the  Greek  nation,  a 
republican  form  of  Government  was  totally  unsuited, 
as  well  as  incompatible  with  her  situation,  in  respect 
to  the  neighbouring  States  of  Europe.  Colonel  Stan- 
hope, whose  enthusiasm  for  the  cause  was  extreme, 
supposed  the  Greeks  to  be  endowed  with  the  same 
virtue  which  their  ancestors  displayed.  We,  who  live 
in  the  twentieth  century,  are  able  by  the  light  of  sub- 
quent  events  to  decide  which  of  these  two  men  held 
the  sounder  view ;  and  we  can  honestly  deplore  that 
a  mere  matter  of  opinion  should  have  caused  any 
disagreements  between  two  men  who  had  sacrificed 
so  much  in  a  common  cause. 

Gamba,  who  seems  to  have  been  present  during  the 
altercation  above  alluded  to,  says  that  Colonel  Stan- 
hope, in  accusing  Lord  Byron  of  being  an  enemy  to 
the  press,  laid  himself  open  to  a  rejoinder  which  is 


112  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

not  recorded  in  the  report  of  these  proceedings. 
Byron's  reply  was  to  the  point :  '  And  yet,  without 
my  money,  where  would  your  Greek  newspaper  be  ?' 
And  he  concluded  the  sentence,  'Judge  me  by  my 
actions,'  cited  by  Stanhope,  with,  '  not  by  my  words' 

Colonel  Stanhope  could  not  understand  Byron's 
bantering  moods.  They  seemed  to  him  to  be  entirely 
out  of  place.  The  more  Byron  laughed  and  joked,  the 
more  serious  Stanhope  became,  and  their  discussions 
seldom  ended  without  a  strong  reproof,  which  irritated 
Byron  for  the  moment.  But  so  far  from  leaving  any 
unfavourable  impression  on  Byron's  mind,  it  increased 
his  regard  for  an  antagonist  of  such  evident  sincerity  : 

'  When  parting  from  him  one  evening,  after  a  dis- 
cussion of  this  nature,  Lord  Byron  went  up  to  him,  and 
exclaimed  :  "  Give  me  that  honest  right  hand."  Two 
such  men  were  worthy  of  being  friends,  and  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  an  injudicious  champion  of  the  one 
should,  by  a  partial  detail  of  their  trifling  differences, 
try  to  raise  him  at  the  expense  of  the  other.' 

With  the  money  provided  by  Byron,  Colonel  Stan- 
hope's pet  scheme,  the  Greek  Chronicle,  printed  in 
Greek  type,  came  into  being.  Its  editor,  '  a  hot- 
headed republican '  named  Jean  Jacques  Meyer,  who 
had  been  a  Swiss  doctor,  was  particularly  unfitted  for 
the  post,  and  soon  came  to  loggerheads  with  Byron 
for  publishing  a  violent  attack  on  the  Austrian 
Government.  In  a  letter  to  Samuel  Barff,  Byron 
says : 

*  From  the  very  first  I  foretold  to  Colonel  Stanhope 
and  to  Prince  Mavrocordato  that  a  Greek  newspaper 
(as  indeed  any  other),  in  the  present  state  of  Greece, 
might  and  probably  would  lead  to  much  mischief  and 
misconstruction,  unless  under  some  restrictions ;  nor 
have  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  as  a  writer  or 


MEYER'S  ATTACK  ON  MONARCHY      113 

otherwise,  except  as  a  pecuniary  contributor  to  its 
support  in  the  outset,  which  I  could  not  refuse  to  the 
earnest  request  of  the  projectors.  Colonel  Stanhope 
and  myself  had  considerable  differences  of  opinion  on 
this  subject,  and  (what  will  appear  laughable  enough) 
to  such  a  degree  that  he  charged  me  with  despotic 
principles,  and  I  ///mwith  ultra-radicalism.  Dr.  Meyer, 
the  Editor,  with  his  unrestrained  freedom  of  the 
press,  and  who  has  the  freedom  to  exercise  an  un- 
limited discretion — not  allowing  any  articles  but  his 
own  and  those  like  them  to  appear — and  in  declaiming 
against  restrictions,  cuts,  carves,  and  restricts,  at  his 
own  will  and  pleasure.  He  is  the  author  of  an  article 
against  Monarchy,  of  which  he  may  have  the  advantage 
and  fame — but  they  (the  Editors)  will  get  themselves 
into  a  scrape,  if  they  do  not  take  care.  Of  all  petty 
tyrants,  he  (Meyer)  is  one  of  the  pettiest,  as  are  most 
demagogues  that  ever  I  knew.  He  is  a  Swiss  by 
birth,  and  a  Greek  by  assumption,  having  married  a 
wife  and  changed  his  religion. 

On  the  appearance  of  Meyer's  stupid  attack  on 
monarchy,  Byron  immediately  suppressed  the  whole 
edition. 

Early  in  March  the  prospectus  of  a  polyglot  news- 
paper, entitled  the  Greek  Telegraphy  was  published  at 
Missolonghi.     Millingen  says : 

'  The  sentiments  imprudently  advocated  in  this 
prospectus  induced  the  British  authorities  in  the 
Ionian  Islands  to  entertain  so  unfavourable  an  impres- 
sion of  the  spirit  which  would  guide  its  conductors, 
that  its  admission  into  the  heptarchy  was  interdicted 
under  severe  penalties.  The  same  took  place  in  the 
Austrian  States,  where  they  began  to  look  upon 
Greece  as  "  the  city  of  refuge,"  as  it  were,  for  the 
Carbonari  and  discontented  English  reformers.  The 
first  number  appeared  on  20th  March ;  but  it  was 
written  in  a  tone  so  opposite  to  what  had  been 
expected,  that  it  might,  in  some  degree,  be  considered 
as  a  protest  against  its  prospectus.  Lord  Byron  was 
the  cause  of  this  change.  More  than  ever  convinced 
that  nothing  could  be  more  useless,  and  even  more 

8 


114  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

dangerous,  to  the  interests  of  Greece,  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  than  an  unlimited  freedom  of  the  press, 
he  insisted  on  Count  Gamba  becoming  Editor.  Byron 
cautioned  him  to  restrict  the  paper  to  a  sirnple  narrative 
of  events  as  they  occurred,  and  an  unprejudiced  state- 
ment of  opinions  in  respect  to  poHtical  relations  and 
wants,  so  as  to  make  them  subjects  of  interest  to  the 
friends  of  Greece  in  the  western  parts  of  Europe.' 

Gamba  says  : 

'  Lord  Byron's  view  of  the  politics  of  Greece  was, 
that  this  revolution  had  iittle  or  nothing  in  common 
with  the  great  struggles  with  which  Europe  had  been 
for  thirty  years  distracted,  and  that  it  would  be  most 
foolish  tor  the  friends  of  Greece  to  mix  up  their  cause 
with  that  of  other  nations,  who  had  attempted  to  change 
their  form  of  government,  and  by  so  doing  to  draw 
down  the  hatred  and  opposition  of  one  of  the  two  great 
parties  that  at  present  divide  the  civilized  world. 
Lord  Byron's  wish  was  to  show  that  the  contest  was 
simply  one  between  barbarism  and  civilization — 
between  Christianity  and  Islamism — and  that  the 
struggle  was  on  behalf  of  the  descendants  of  those 
to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  first  principles  of 
science  and  the  most  perfect  models  of  literature  and 
art.  For  such  a  cause  he  hoped  that  all  politicians  of 
all  parties,  in  every  European  State,  might  fairly  be 
expected  to  unite.' 

Byron  believed  that  the  moment  had  arrived  for 
uniting  the  Greeks ;  the  approach  of  danger  and 
the  chance  of  succour  seemed  favourable  to  his 
designs. 

*  To  be  in  time  to  defend  ourselves,'  said  Byron,  *  we 
have  only  to  put  in  action  and  unite  all  the  means  the 
Greeks  possess ;  with  money  we  have  experienced  the 
facility  of  raising  troops.  I  cannot  calculate  to  what 
a  height  Greece  may  rise. 

*  Hitherto  it  has  been  a  subject  for  the  hymns  and 
elegies  of  fanatics  and  enthusiasts  ;  but  now  it  will 
draw  the  attention  of  the  politician.' 


DEATH  OF  SIR  THOMAS  MAITLAND     115 

Early  in  February,  1824,  Colonel  Stanhope  proposed 
to  go  into  the  Morea,  in  order  to  co-operate  in  the 
great  work  of  appeasing  the  discords  of  that  country. 
Prince  Mavrocordato  wrote  privately  to  Sir  Thomas 
Maitland  *  in  the  hope  of  averting  trouble  consequent 
upon  the  infraction  of  the  neutrality  of  the  Ionian 
territory  at  Ithaca,  Lord  Byron  forwarded  his  letter  to 
Lord  Sidney  Osborne,t  with  the  following  explanation: 

'  Enclosed  is  a  private  communication  from  Prince 
Mavrocordato  to  Sir  Thomas  Maitland,  which  you  will 
oblige  me  much  by  delivering.  Sir  Thomas  can  take 
as  much  or  as  little  of  it  as  he  pleases ;  but  I  hope 
and  believe  that  it  is  rather  calculated  to  conciliate 
than  to  irritate  on  the  subject  of  the  late  event  near 
Ithaca  and  Sta  Mauro,  which  there  is  every  disposition 
on  the  part  of  the  Government  here  to  disavow ;  and 
they  are  also  disposed  to  give  every  satisfaction  in 
their  power.  You  must  all  be  persuaded  how  difficult 
it  is,  under  existing  circumstances,  for  the  Greeks  to 
keep  up  discipline,  however  they  may  all  be  disposed 
to  do  so.  I  am  doing  all  I  can  to  convince  them  of  the 
necessity  of  the  strictest  observance  of  the  regulations 
of  the  island,  and,  I  trust,  with  some  effect.  I  was 
received  here  with  every  possible  public  and  private 
mark  of  respect.  If  you  write  to  any  of  our  friends, 
you  can  say  that  I  am  in  good  health  and  spirits  ;  and 
that  I  shall  stick  by  the  cause  as  long  as  a  man  of  honour 
can,  without  sparing  purse,  and  (I  hope,  if  need  be) 
person.' 

This  letter  is  dated  from  Missolonghi,  February  9, 
1824.  On  February  11  Byron  heard  the  news  of  the 
death  of  Sir  Thomas  Maitland.     Parry  says  : 

*  The  news  certainly  caused  considerable  satisfaction 
among  the  Greeks,  and  among  some  of  the  English. 
He  was  generally  looked  on  by  them  as  the  great 
enemy  of  their  cause  ;  but  there  is  no  proof  of  this.     I 

*  High  Commissioner  of  the  Ionian  Islands, 
t  Acting  as  Secretary  to  High  Commissioner. 

8—2 


ii6  BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

know  that  his  government  has  been  very  much  cen- 
sured in  England,  and  far  be  it  from  me  to  approve  of 
the  arbitrary  or  despotic  measures  of  any  man  ;  but 
those  who  know  anything  of  the  people  he  had  to  deal 
with  will  find,  in  their  character,  an  excuse  for  his 
conduct.  I  believe,  in  general,  his  government  was 
well  calculated  for  his  subjects.' 

Parry  throws  light  upon  Byron's  attitude  towards 
Mavrocordato,  to  which  we  alluded  in  a  previous 
chapter. 

'  I  took  an  opportunity,  one  evening,  of  asking  Lord 
Byron  what  he  thought  of  Prince  Mavrocordato.  He 
replied  he  considered  him  an  honest  man  and  a  man 
of  talent.  He  had  shown  his  devotion  to  his  country's 
service  by  expending  his  private  fortune  in  its  cause, 
and  was  probably  the  most  capable  and  trustworthy 
of  all  the  Greek  chieftains.  Lord  Byron  said  that  he 
agreed  with  Mavrocordato,  that  Missolonghi  and  its 
dependencies  were  of  the  greatest  importance  to 
Greece  ;  and  as  long  as  the  Prince  acted  as  he  had  done, 
he  would  give  him  all  the  support  in  his  power.  Lord 
Byron  seemed,  at  the  same  time,  to  suppose  that  a 
little  more  energy  and  industry  in  the  Prince,  with  a 
disposition  to  make  fewer  promises,  would  tend  much 
to  his  advantage.' 

The  following  incident,  related  by  Parry,  seems  to 
fall  naturally  into  this  part  of  our  narrative  : 

'When  the  Turkish  fleet  was  blockading  Misso- 
longhi, I  was  one  day  ordered  by  Lord  Byron  to 
accompany  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  harbour  to  inspect 
the  fortifications,  in  order  to  make  a  report  of  the  state 
they  were  in.  He  and  I  were  in  his  own  punt,  a  httle 
boat  which  he  had,  rowed  by  a  boy  ;  and  in  a  large  boat, 
accompanying  us,  were  Prince  Mavrocordato  and  his 
attendants.  As  I  was  viewing,  on  one  hand,  the  Turkish 
fleet  attentively,  and  reflecting  on  its  powers,  and  our 
means  of  defence ;  and  looking,  on  the  other,  at  Prince 
Mavrocordato  and  his  attendants,  perfectly  uncon- 
cerned, smoking  their  pipes  and  gossiping,  as  if  Greece 
were  liberated  and  at  peace,  and    Missolonghi   in   a 


BYRON'S  ABHORRENCE  OF  DUPLICITY     117 

state  of  perfect  security,  I  could  not  help  giving  vent 
to  a  feeling  of  contempt  and  indignation. 

'  "  What  is  the  matter  ?"  said  Lord  Byron,  appearing 
to  be  very  serious ;  "  what  makes  you  so  angry, 
Parry  ?" 

* "  I  am  not  angry,  my  lord,"  I  replied,  "  but  some- 
what indignant.  The  Turks,  if  they  were  not  the 
most  stupid  wretches  breathing,  might  take  the  fort  of 
Vasaladi,  by  means  of  two  pinnaces,  any  night  they 
pleased ;  they  have  only  to  approach  it  with  muffled 
oars,  they  would  not  be  heard,  I  will  answer  for  their 
not  being  seen,  and  they  may  storm  it  in  a  few 
minutes.  With  eight  gunboats  properly  armed  with 
24-pounders,  they  might  batter  both  Missolonghi  and 
Anatolica  to  the  ground.  And  there  sits  the  old 
gentlewoman,  Prince  Mavrocordato  and  his  troop,  to 
whom  I  applied  an  epithet  I  will  not  here  repeat,  as  if 
they  were  all  perfectly  safe.  They  know  that  their 
means  of  defence  are  inadequate,  and  they  have  no 
means  of  improving  them.  If  I  were  in  their  place,  I 
should  be  in  a  fever  at  the  thought  of  my  own  in- 
capacity and  ignorance,  and  I  should  burn  with 
impatience  to  attempt  the  destruction  of  those  stupid 
Turkish  rascals.  The  Greeks  and  the  Turks  are 
opponents,  worthy  by  their  imbecility  of  each  other." 

*  I  had  scarcely  explained  myself  fully,  when  Lord 
Byron  ordered  our  boat  to  be  placed  alongside  the 
other,  and  actually  related  our  whole  conversation  to 
the  Prince.  In  doing  it,  however,  he  took  upon  him- 
self the  task  of  pacifying  both  the  Prince  and  me,  and 
though  I  was  at  first  very  angry,  and  the  Prince,  I 
believe,  very  much  annoyed,  he  succeeded.  It  was,  in 
fact,  only  Lord  Byron's  manner  of  reproving  us  both. 
It  taught  me  to  be  prudent  and  discreet.  To  the 
Prince  and  the  Greeks  it  probably  conveyed  a  lesson, 
which  Lord  Byron  could  have  found  no  better  means 
of  giving  them.' 

Byron  was  remarkably  sincere  and  frank  in  all 
his  words  and  actions.  Parry  says  that  he  never 
harboured  a  thought  concerning  another  man  that  he 
did  not  express  to  his  face ;  neither  could  he  bear 
duplicity   in    others.     If  one   person   were   to   speak 


ii8  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

against  a  third  party,  in  Byron's  presence,  he  would 
be  sure  to  repeat  it  the  first  time  the  two  opponents 
were  in  presence  of  one  another.  This  was  a  habit, 
says  Parry,  of  which  his  acquaintance  were  well 
aware,  and  it  spared  Byron  the  trouble  of  listening  to 
many  idle  and  degrading  calumnies.  He  probably 
expected  thereby  to  teach  others  a  sincerity  which  he 
so  highly  prized ;  but  it  must  be  added  that  he  derived 
pleasure  from  witnessing  the  confusion  of  the  person 
thus  exposed.  We  recognize  Byron  in  this  trait,  as 
none  of  his  biographers  have  omitted  to  mention  the 
extraordinary  indiscretion  of  his  confidences ;  but 
never  before  was  his  habit  of  'blabbing'  turned  to  a 
better  use. 

It  is  generally  admitted  that  the  Greeks  were  supine 
to  the  last  degree.  Little  or  nothing  had  been  done 
to  repair  the  losses  resulting  from  the  late  campaign, 
nor  had  adequate  preparations  been  made  for  the 
struggle  in  prospect.  Through  their  improvidence, 
the  Greeks  had  neither  money  nor  materials.  Neither 
in  the  Morea  nor  in  Western  Greece  had  any  steps 
been  taken  to  meet  an  assault  by  the  enemy.  The 
fortifications,  that  had  suffered  in  the  previous 
campaign,  were  left  in  statu  quo.  The  Greek  fleet  was 
practically  non-existent,  owing  to  the  insufficiency  of 
money  wherewith  to  pay  the  crews.  In  addition  to 
internal  dissensions,  which  might  at  any  moment  give 
rise  to  a  civil  war,  the  French  and  English  Govern- 
ments were  continually  demanding  satisfaction  for 
breaches  of  neutrality,  or  for  acts  of  piracy  com- 
mitted by  vessels  of  the  Greek  fleet,  under  a  singular 
misapprehension  of  the  game  of  war.  In  the  midst  of 
all  these  depressing  conditions  Byron  kept  his  intense 
enthusiasm   for   the   cause,  and   whatever   may  have 


MAVROCORDATO  AND  STANHOPE      119 

been  the  errors  in  his  policy,  everyone  acknowledged 
the  purity  of  his  motives  and  the  intensity  of  his  zeal. 
Prince  Mavrocordato  and  Colonel  Stanhope  were 
not  on  very  good  terms.  The  Colonel  had  no  con- 
fidence in  the  Prince,  and,  indeed,  openly  defied  and 
opposed  him.  His  hostility  to  Mavrocordato  became 
so  marked  that  both  Greeks  and  English  were  per- 
suaded that  he  was  endeavouring  to  break  up  the 
establishment  at  Missolonghi,  and  to  remove  all  the 
stores,  belonging  to  the  Committee,  to  Athens. 

'  This  report,'  says  Parry,  '  was  conveyed  to  Lord 
Byron,  who  had  not  parted  with  Colonel  Stanhope  on 
very  good  terms,  and  caused  him  much  annoyance. 
He  had  before  attributed  both  neglect  and  deceit  to 
the  Greek  Committee  or  some  of  its  agents ;  and  this 
report  of  the  proceedings  of  their  special  and  chosen 
messenger  made  him,  in  the  irritation  of  the  moment, 
regard  them  as  acting  even  treacherously  towards 
himself.  "  By  the  cant  of  religious  pretenders,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  already  deeply  suffered,  and  now  I  know 
what  the  cant  of  pretended  reformers  and  philan- 
thropists amounts  to."* 

Byron  was  much  displeased  by  the  neglect  which 
he  had  experienced  at  the  hands  of  the  London  Com- 
mittee, who,  instead  of  sending  supplies  that  would 
have  been  of  some  use,  sent  printing-presses,  maps, 
and  bugles.  Books  and  Bibles  were  sent  to  a  people 
who  wanted  guns,  and  when  they  asked  for  a  sword 
they  sent  the  lever  of  a  printing-press.  The  only 
wonder  was  that  they  did  not  send  out  a  pack  of 
beagles.  Colonel  Stanhope,  who  might  perhaps 
have  been  of  some  use  in  a  military  capacity,  began 
organizing  the  whole  country  in  accordance  with 
Mr.  Bentham's  views  of  morality  and  justice.  In  this 
he  acted  entirely  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  rarely 
consulted  Byron  or  Mavrocordato  before  carrying  his 


120  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

wild  schemes  into  execution.     Byron  said  of  him,  in  a 
moment  of  exasperation  : 

'  He  is  a  mere  schemer  and  talker,  more  of  a  saint 
than  a  soldier;  and,  with  a  great  deal  of  pretended 
plainness,  a  mere  politician,  and  no  patriot.  I  thought 
Colonel  Stanhope,  being  a  soldier,  would  have 
shown  himself  differently.  He  ought  to  know  what 
a  nation  like  Greece  needs  for  its  defence  ;  and  should 
have  told  the  Committee  that  arms,  and  the  materials 
jfor  carrying  on  war,  were  what  the  Greeks  required.' 

Byron  placed  practice  before  precept,  and  was 
content  to  wait  until  the  Turks  had  been  driven  out 
of  Greece  before  entering  upon  any  scheme  for  the 
cultivation  of  the  soil  and  the  development  of  com- 
merce. He  always  maintained  that  Colonel  Stanhope 
began  at  the  wrong  end,  and  was  foolish  to  expect,  by 
introducing  some  signs  of  wealth  and  knowledge,  to 
make  the  people  of  Greece  both  rich  and  intelligent. 

'  I  hear,'  said  Byron,  in  a  conversation  with  Parry, 
*  that  missionaries  are  to  be  introduced  before  the 
country  is  cleared  of  the  enemy,  and  religious  disputes 
are  to  be  added  to  the  other  sources  of  discord.  How 
very  improper  are  such  proceedings  !  nothing  could  be 
more  impolitic ;  it  will  cause  ill  blood  throughout  the 
country,  and  very  possibly  be  the  means  of  again 
bringing  Greece  under  the  Turkish  yoke.  Can  it  be 
supposed  that  the  Greek  Priesthood,  who  have  great 
influence,  and  even  power,  will  tamely  submit  to  see 
interested  self-opinionated  foreigners  interfere  with 
their  flocks?  I  say  again,  clear  the  country,  teach 
the  people  to  read  and  write,  and  the  labouring  people 
will  judge  for  themselves.' 

The  vexations  to  which  Byron  was  daily  subjected 
during  his  stay  at  Missolonghi,  and  the  insufficiency 
of  the  diet  which  he  prescribed  for  himself  against  the 
advice  of  his  medical  attendant,  so  affected  his  nervous 


SIEGE  OF  LEPANTO  ABANDONED      121 

system,  which  by  nature  was  highly  irritable,  that  at 
last  he  broke  down.     Count  Gamba  says  : 

*  Lord  Byron  was  exceedingly  vexed  at  the  necessary 
abandonment  of  his  project  against  Lepanto,  at  a  time 
when  success  seemed  so  probable.  He  had  not  been 
able  to  ride  that  day,  nor  for  some  days,  on  account 
of  the  rain.  He  had  been  extremely  annoyed  at  the 
vexations  caused  by  the  Suliotes,  as  also  with  the 
various  other  interruptions  from  petitions,  demands, 
and  remonstrances,  which  never  left  him  a  moment's 
peace  at  any  hour  of  the  day.  At  seven  in  the  evening 
I  went  into  his  room  on  some  business,  and  found  him 
lying  on  the  sofa  :  he  was  not  asleep,  and,  seeing  me 
enter,  called  out,  "  I  am  not  asleep — come  in — I  am 
not  well."  At  eight  o'clock  he  went  downstairs  to 
visit  Colonel  Stanhope.  The  conversation  turned 
upon  our  newspaper.  We  agreed  that  it  was  not 
calculated  to  give  foreigners  the  necessary  intelligence 
of  what  was  passing  in  Greece  ;  because,  being  written 
in  Romaic,  it  was  not  intelligible,  except  to  a  few 
strangers.  We  resolved  to  publish  another,  in  several 
languages,  and  Lord  Byron  promised  to  furnish  some 
articles  himself  When  I  left  the  room,  he  was  laugh- 
ing and  joking  with  Parry  and  the  Colonel ;  he  was 
drinking  some  cider.' 


'& 


As  Gamba  is  no  longer  a  witness  of  what  actually 
happened,  we  refer  the  reader  to  the  statement  of 
Parry  himself : 

'  Lord  Byron's  quarters  were  on  the  second-floor  of 
the  house,  and  Colonel  Stanhope  lived  on  the  first- 
floor.  In  the  evening,  about  eight  o'clock.  Lord 
Byron  came  downstairs  into  the  Colonel's  room 
where  I  was.  He  seated  himself  on  a  cane  settee, 
and  began  talking  with  me  on  various  subjects. 
Colonel  Stanhope,  who  was  employed  in  a  neighbour- 
ing apartment,  fitting  up  printing-presses,  and  Count 
Gamba,  both  came  into  the  room  for  a  short  time, 
and  some  conversation  ensued  about  the  newspaper, 
which  was  never  to  Lord  Byron  a  pleasant  topic,  as 
he  disagreed  with  his  friends  about  it.  After  a  little 
time  they  went  their  several  ways,  and  more  agreeable 


122     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

subjects  were  introduced.  Lord  Byron  began  joking 
with  me  about  Colonel  Stanhope's  occupations,  and 
said  he  thought  the  author  would  have  his  brigade  of 
artillery  ready  before  the  soldier  got  his  printing- 
press  fixed.  There  was  then  nobody  in  the  room 
but  his  lordship,  Mr.  Hesketh,  and  myself.  There 
was  evidently  a  constrained  manner  about  Lord 
Byron,  and  he  complained  of  thirst.  He  ordered  his 
servant  to  bring  him  some  cider,  which  I  entreated 
him  not  to  drink  in  that  state.  There  was  a  flush  in 
his  countenance,  which  seemed  to  indicate  great 
nervous  agitation ;  and  as  I  thought  Lord  Byron  had 
been  much  agitated  and  harassed  for  several  da3^s 
past,  I  recommended  him,  at  least,  to  qualify  his  cider 
with  some  brandy.  He  said  he  had  frequently  drunk 
cider,  and  felt  no  bad  consequences  from  it,  and  he 
accordingly  drank  it  off.  He  had  scarcely  drunk  the 
cider,  when  he  complained  of  a  very  strange  sensation, 
and  I  noticed  a  great  change  in  his  countenance.  He 
rose  from  his  seat,  but  could  not  walk,  staggered  a  step 
or  two,  and  fell  into  my  arms. 

•  1  had  no  other  stimulant  than  brandy  at  hand,  and 
having  before  seen  it  administered  in  similar  cases 
with  considerable  benefit,  I  succeeded  in  making  him 
swallow  a  small  quantity.  In  another  minute  his  teeth 
were  closed,  his  speech  and  senses  gone,  and  he  was 
in  strong  convulsions.  I  laid  him  down  on  the  settee, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  his  servant  kept  him  quiet. 

'When  he  fell  into  my  arms,  his  countenance  was 
very  much  distorted,  his  mouth  being  drawn  on  one 
side.  After  a  short  time  his  medical  attendant  came, 
and  he  speedily  recovered  his  senses  and  his  speech. 
He  asked  for  Colonel  Stanhope,  as  he  had  something 
particular  to  say  to  him,  should  there  be  a  probability 
of  his  not  recovering.  Colonel  Stanhope  came  from 
the  next  room.  On  recovering  his  senses,  Lord 
Byron's  countenance  assumed  its  ordinary  appear- 
ance, except  that  it  was  pale  and  haggard.  No  other 
effect  remained  visible  except  great  weakness.' 

According  to  Gamba : 

'  Lord  Byron  was  carried  upstairs  to  his  own  bed, 
and  complained  only  of  weakness.  He  asked  whether 
his  attack  was  likely  to  prove  fatal.     "  Let  me  know," 


A  FALSE  ALARM  123 

he  said.  "  Do  not  think  I  am  afraid  to  die — I  am 
not."  He  told  me  that  when  he  lost  his  speech  he 
did  not  lose  his  senses ;  that  he  had  suffered  great 
pain,  and  that  he  believed,  if  the  convulsion  had 
lasted  a  minute  longer,  he  must  have  died.' 

The  attack  had  been  brought  on  by  the  vexations 
which  he  had  long  suffered  in  silence,  and  borne 
heroically.  But  his  mode  of  living  was  a  contributory 
cause.  He  ate  nothing  but  fish,  cheese,  and  vege- 
tables— having  regulated  his  table,  says  Gamba,  so  as 
not  to  cost  more  than  45  paras.  This  he  did  to  show 
that  he  could  live  on  fare  as  simple  as  that  of  the 
Greek  soldiers. 

Byron  had  scarcely  recovered  consciousness,  when 
a  false  alarm  was  brought  to  him  that  the  Suliotes  had 
risen,  and  were  about  to  attack  the  building  where  the 
arms  were  stored. 

*  We  ran  to  our  arsenal,'  says  Gamba,  '  Parr}^ 
ordered  the  artillerymen  under  arms :  our  cannon 
were  loaded  and  pointed  on  the  approaches  to  the 
gates  ;  the  sentries  were  doubled.  This  alarm  had 
originated  with  two  Germans,  who,  having  taken  too 
much  wine,  and  seeing  a  body  of  soldiers  with  their 
guns  in  their  hands  proceeding  towards  the  Seraglio, 
thought  that  a  revolution  had  broken  out,  and  spread 
an  alarm  over  the  whole  town.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
these  troops  were  merely  changing  their  quarters. 
These  Germans  were  so  inconsiderate,  that  during 
our  absence  at  the  arsenal  they  forced  their  way  into 
Byron's  bedroom,  swearing  that  they  had  come  to 
defend  him  and  his  house.  Fortunately,  we  were  not 
present,  for,  as  this  was  only  half  an  hour  after 
Byron's  attack,  we  should  have  been  tempted  to  fling 
the  intruders  out  of  the  window.  On  the  following 
day  B3^ron  was  better,  and  got  up  at  noon  ;  but  he 
was  very  pale  and  weak,  and  complained  of  a  sensa- 
tion of  weight  in  his  head.  The  doctor  applied  eight 
leeches  to  his  temples,  and  the  blood  flowed  copiously  ; 
it  was  stopped  with  difficulty,  and  he  fainted.' 


124  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Dr.  Millingen  says  that  Dr.  Bruno  had  at  first 
proposed  opening  a  vein  ;  but  finding  it  impossible  to 
obtain  Byron's  consent,  he  applied  leeches  to  the 
temples,  which  bled  so  copiously  as  almost  to  bring 
on  syncope.  Byron,  alarmed  to  see  the  difficulty 
Dr.  Bruno  had  in  stopping  the  haemorrhage,  sent  for 
Millingen,  who,  by  the  application  of  lunar  caustic, 
succeeded  in  stopping  the  flow  of  blood. 

In  Millingen's  opinion,  Byron  was  never  the  same 
man  after  this  ;  a  change  took  place  in  his  mental  and 
bodily  functions. 

*  That  wonderful  elasticity  of  disposition,  that  con- 
tinual flow  of  wit,  that  facility  of  jest  by  which  his 
conversation  had  been  so  distinguished,  returned  only 
at  distant  intervals,'  says  Millingen :  *  from  this  time 
Byron  fell  into  a  state  of  melancholy  from  which  none 
of  our  arguments  could  relieve  him.  He  felt  certain 
that  his  constitution  had  been  ruined ;  that  he  was  a 
worn-out  man ;  and  that  his  muscular  power  was 
gone.  Flashes  before  his  eyes,  palpitations  and 
anxieties,  hourly  afflicted  him ;  and  at  times  such  a 
sense  of  faintness  would  overpower  him,  that,  fearing 
to  be  attacked  by  similar  convulsions,  he  would  send 
in  great  haste  for  medical  assistance.  His  nervous 
system  was,  in  fact,  in  a  continual  state  of  erethism, 
which  was  certainly  augmented  by  the  low,  debilitating 
diet  which  Dr.  Bruno  had  recommended.' 

On  one  occasion  Byron  said  to  Dr.  Millingen  that 
he  did  not  wish  for  life  ;  it  had  ceased  to  have  any 
attraction  for  him. 

*  But,'  said  Byron,  '  the  fear  of  two  things  now 
haunt  me.  I  picture  myself  slowly  expiring  on  a  bed 
of  torture,  or  ending  my  days  like  Swift — a  grinning 
idiot !  Would  to  Heaven  the  day  were  arrived  in 
which,  rushing,  sword  in  hand,  on  a  body  of  Turks, 
and  fighting  like  one  weary  of  existence,  I  shall  meet 
immediate,  painless  death— the  object  of  my  wishes.' 


BYRON'S  PERPLEXITIES  125 

Two  days  after  this  seizure  Byron  made  the  follow- 
ing entry  in  his  journal : 

*  With  regard  to  the  presumed  causes  of  this  attack, 
so  far  as  I  know,  there  might  be  several.  The  state  of 
the  place  and  the  weather  permit  little  exercise  at 
present.  I  have  been  violently  agitated  with  more 
than  one  passion  recently,  and  amidst  conflicting 
parties,  politics,  and  (as  far  as  regards  public  matters) 
circumstances.  I  have  also  been  in  an  anxious  state 
with  regard  to  things  which  may  be  only  interesting 
to  my  own  private  feelings,  and,  perhaps,  not  uniformly 
so  temperate  as  I  may  generally  affirm  that  I  was  wont 
to  be.  How  far  any  or  all  of  these  may  have  acted  on 
the  mind  or  body  of  one  who  had  already  undergone 
many  previous  changes  of  place  and  passion  during 
a  life  of  thirty-six  years,  I  cannot  tell' 

The  following  note,  which  is  entered  by  Mr.  Row- 
land Prothero  in  the  new  edition  of  Lord  Byron's 
'Letters  and  Journals,'*  was  dashed  off  by  Byron  in 
pencil,  on  the  day  of  his  seizure,  February  15,  1824: 

'  Having  tried  in  vain  at  great  expense,  considerable 
trouble,  and  some  danger,  to  unite  the  Suliotes  for  the 
good  of  Greece — and  their  own — I  have  come  to  the 
following  resolution : 

*  I  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  Suliotes. 
They  may  go  to  the  Turks,  or  the  Devil, — they  may 
cut  me  into  more  pieces  than  they  have  dissensions 
among  themselves, — sooner  than  change  my  resolution. 

*  For  the  rest,  I  hold  my  means  and  person  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Greek  nation  and  Government  the 
same  as  before.' 

No  better  proof  could  be  given  of  the  perplexities 
which  worried  him  at  that  particular  time.  But  the 
surrounding  gloom  was  lightened  now  and  then  by 
some  of  Parry's  stories.  The  following  anecdote 
about  Jeremy  Bentham  was  an  especial  favourite  with 

*  Vol.  vi.,  p.  326. 


126  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Byron;    Parry's    sea -terms    and    drollery   doubtless 
heightened  its  effect  : 

'  Shortly  before  I  left  London  for  Greece,  Mr.  Bow- 
ring,  the  honorary  secretary  to  the  Greek  Committee, 
informed  me  that  Mr.  Jeremy  Bentham  wished  to  see 
the  stores  and  materials,  preparing  for  the  Greeks,  and 
that  he  had  done  me  the  honour  of  asking  me  to  break- 
fast with  him  some  day,  that  I  might  afterwards  conduct 
him  to  see  the  guns,  etc. 

*  "  Who  the  devil  is  Mr.  Bentham  ?"  was  my  rough 
reply ;  "  I  never  heard  of  him  before."  Many  of  my 
readers  may  still  be  in  the  same  state  of  ignorance, 
and  it  will  be  acceptable  to  them,  I  hope,  to  hear  of 
the  philosopher. 

'"Mr.  Bentham,"  said  Mr.  Bowring,  "is  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  the  age,  and  for  the  honour  now 
offered  to  you,  I  waited  impatiently  many  a  long  day — 
I  believe  for  more  than  two  years." 

' "  Great  or  little,  I  never  heard  of  him  before ;  but 
if  he  wants  to  see  me,  why  I'll  go." 

'  It  was  accordingly  arranged  that  I  should  visit 
Mr.  Bentham,  and  that  Mr.  Bowring  should  see  him 
to  fix  the  time,  and  then  inform  me.  In  a  day  or  two 
afterwards,  I  received  a  note  from  the  honorary  secre- 
tary to  say  I  was  to  breakfast  with  Mr.  Bentham  on 
Saturday.  It  happened  that  I  lived  at  a  distance  from 
town,  and  having  heard  something  of  the  primitive 
manner  of  living  and  early  hours  of  philosophers,  I 
arranged  with  my  wife  overnight  that  I  would  get  up 
very  early  on  the  Saturday  morning,  that  I  might  not 
keep  Mr.  Bentham  waiting.  Accordingly,  I  rose  with 
the  dawn,  dressed  myself  in  haste,  and  brushed  off 
for  Queen's  Square,  Westminster,  as  hard  as  my  legs 
could  carry  me.  On  reaching  the  Strand,  fearing  I 
might  be  late,  being  rather  corpulent,  and  not  being- 
willing  to  go  into  the  presence  of  so  very  great  a  man, 
as  I  understood  Mr.  Jeremy  Bentham  to  be,  puffing 
and  blowing,  I  took  a  hackney-coach  and  drove  up 
to  his  door  about  eight  o'clock.  I  found  a  servant 
girl  afoot,  and  told  her  I  came  to  breakfast  with 
Mr.  Bentham  by  appointment. 

'She  ushered  me  in,  and  introduced  me  to  two 
young  men,  who  looked  no  more  like  philosophers, 


JEREMY  BENTHAM'S  CRUISE  127 

however,   than   my   own   children.      I    thought   they 
might  be  Mr.  Bentham's  sons,  but  this,  I  understood, 
was  a  mistake.     I  showed  them  the  note  I  had  received 
from  Mr.  Bowring,  and  they  told  me  Mr.  Bentham  did 
not  breakfast  till   three  o'clock.      This  surprised  me 
much,  but  they  told  me  I  might  breakfast  with  them, 
which  I  did,  though  1  was  not  much  flattered  by  the 
honour  of  sitting   down  with  Mr.  Bentham's  clerks, 
when  I  was  invited  by  their  master.     Poor  Mr.  Bow- 
ring!  thought   I,  he  must  be  a  meek-spirited  young 
man  if  it  was  for  this  he  waited  so  impatiently.      I 
supposed  the  philosopher  himself  did  not  get  up  till 
noon,  as  he  did  not  breakfast  till  so  late,  but  in  this 
I  was  also  mistaken.     About  ten  o'clock  I  was  sum- 
moned to  his  presence,  and  mustered  up  all  my  courage 
and  all  my  ideas  for  the  meeting.      His  appearance 
struck  me  forcibly.     His  thin  white  locks,  cut  straight 
in  the  fashion  of  the  Quakers,  and  hanging,  or  rather 
floating,  on  his  shoulders ;  his  garments  something  of 
Quaker  colour  and  cut,  and  his  frame  rather  square 
and  muscular,  with  no  exuberance  of  flesh,  made  up  a 
singular-looking  and  not  an  inelegant  old  man.     He 
welcomed  me  with  a  few  hurried  words,  but  without 
any  ceremony,  and   then  conducted  me  into  several 
rooms  to  show  me  his  ammunition  and  materials  of 
war.     One   very  large   room  was   nearly  filled   with 
books,  and   another   with   unbound   works,   which,   I 
understood,  were  the  philosopher's  own  composition. 
The  former,  he  said,  furnished  him  his  supplies ;  and 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  labour  required  to  read  so 
many  volumes.     I  said  inadvertently,  "  I  suppose  you 
have  quite  forgotten  what  is  said  in  the  first  before 
you  read  the  last."     Mr.  Bentham,  however,  took  this 
m  good  part,  and,  taking  hold  of  my  arm,  said  we 
would  proceed  on  our  journey.     Accordingly,  off  we 
set,  accompanied  by  one  of  his  young  men  carrying 
a  portfolio,  to  keep,  I  suppose,  a  log  of  our  proceedings. 
'  We  went  through  a  small  garden,  and,  passing  out 
of  a  gate,  I  found  we  were  in  St.  James's  Park.     Here 
I  noticed  that  Mr.  Bentham  had  a  very  snug  dwelling, 
with   many  accommodations,  and   such   a   garden   as 
belongs  in  London  only  to  the  first  nobility.     But  for 
his  neighbours,  I   thought — for  he  has  a  barrack  of 
soldiers  on  one  side  of  his  premises — I  should  envy 


128  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

him  his  garden  more  than  his  great  reputation.  On 
looking  at  him,  I  could  but  admire  his  nale,  and  even 
venerable,  appearance.  I  understood  he  was  seventy- 
three  years  of  age,  and  therefore  I  concluded  we 
should  have  a  quiet,  comfortable  walk.  Very  much  to 
my  surprise,  however,  we  had  scarcely  got  into  the 
Park,  when  he  let  go  my  arm,  and  set  off  trotting  like 
a  Highland  messenger.  The  Park  was  crowded,  and 
the  people  one  and  all  seemed  to  stare  at  the  old 
man ;  but,  heedless  of  all  this,  he  trotted  on,  his  white 
locks  floating  in  the  wind,  as  if  he  were  not  seen  by  a 
single  human  being. 

As  soon  as  I  could  recover  from  my  surprise,  I 
asked  the  young  man,  "  Is  Mr.  Bentham  flighty  ?" 
pointing  to  my  head.  "  Oh  no,  it's  his  way,"  was  the 
hurried  answer ;  "  he  thinks  it  good  for  his  health. 
But  I  must  run  after  him  ;"  and  off  set  the  youth  in 
chase  of  the  philosopher.  I  must  not  lose  my  com- 
panions, thought  I,  and  off  I  set  also.  Of  course  the 
eyes  of  every  human  being  in  the  Park  were  fixed  on 
the  running  veteran  and  his  pursuers.  There  was 
Jerry  ahead,  then  came  his  clerk  and  his  portfolio, 
and  I,  being  a  heavier  sailer  than  either,  was  bringing 
up  the  rear. 

*  What  the  people  might  think,  I  don't  know;  but  it 
seemed  to  me  a  very  strange  scene,  and  I  was  not 
much  delighted  at  being  made  such  an  object  of 
attraction.  Mr.  Bentham's  activity  surprised  me,  and 
I  never  overtook  him  or  came  near  him  till  we  reached 
the  Horse  Guards,  where  his  speed  was  checked  by 
the  Blues  drawn  up  in  array.  Here  we  threaded  in 
amongst  horses  and  men  till  we  escaped  at  the  other 
gate  into  Whitehall.  I  now  thought  the  crowded 
streets  would  prevent  any  more  racing ;  but  several 
times  he  escaped  from  us,  and  trotted  off,  compelling 
us  to  trot  after  him  till  we  reached  Mr.  Galloway's 
manufactory  in  Smithfield.  Here  he  exulted  in  his 
activity,  and  inquired  particularly  if  I  had  ever  seen  a 
man  at  his  time  of  life  so  active.  I  could  not  possibly 
answer  no,  while  I  was  almost  breathless  with  the 
exertion  of  following  him  through  the  crowded  streets. 
After  seeing  at  Mr.  Galloway's  manufactory,  not  only 
the  things  which  had  been  prepared  for  the  Greeks, 
but  his  other  engines  and  machines,  we  proceeded  to 


JEREMY  BENTHAM'S  CRUISE  129 

another  manufactory  at  the  foot  of  Southwark  Bridge, 
where   our    brigade   of  guns   stood    ready   mounted. 
When  Mr.  Bentham  had  satisfied  his  curiosity  here 
also,  and  I  had  given  him  every  information  in  my 
power,  we  set  off  to  return  to  his  house,  that  he  might 
breakfast ;  I   endeavoured   to   persuade   him   to   take 
a  hackney-coach,  but  in  vain.     We  got  on  tolerably 
well,  and  without  any  adventures,  tragical  or  comical, 
till   we   arrived   at   Fleet   Street.     We   crossed   from 
Fleet  Market  over  towards  Mr.  Waithman's  shop,  and 
here,  letting  go  my  arm,  he  quitted  the  foot  pavement, 
and  set  off  again  in  one  of  his  vagaries  up  Fleet  Street. 
His  clerk  again  set  off  after  him,  and  I  again  followed. 
The  race  here  excited  universal  attention.     The  per- 
ambulating ladies,  who  are  always  in  great  numbers 
about  that  part  of  the  town,  and  ready  to  laugh  at  any 
kind   of  oddity,  and   catch  hold  of  every  simpleton, 
stood  and  stared  at  or  followed  the  venerable  philos- 
opher.   One  of  them,  well  known  to  all  the  neighbour- 
hood by  the  appellation  of  the  City  Barge,  given  to 
her  on  account  of  her  extraordinary  bulk,  was  coming 
with  a  consort  full  sail  down  Fleet  Street,  but  when- 
ever they  saw  the  flight  of  Mr.  Jeremy  Bentham  they 
hove  to,  tacked,  and  followed  to  witness  the  fun  or 
share  the  prize.     I  was  heartily  ashamed  of  partici- 
pating  in   this  scene,  and   supposed  that  everybody 
would   take   me   for   a   mad    doctor,  the   young   man 
for  my  assistant,  and  Mr.  Bentham  for  my  patient,  just 
broke  adrift  from  his  keepers. 

'Fortunately  the  chase  did  not  continue  long.  Mr. 
Bentham  hove  to  abreast  of  Carlisle's  shop,  and  stood 
for  a  little  time  to  admire  the  books  and  portraits 
hanging  in  the  window.  At  length  one  of  them 
arrested  his  attention  more  particularly.  "  Ah,  ah," 
said  he,  in  a  hurried  indistinct  tone,  "  there  it  is,  there 
it  is !"  pointing  to  a  portrait  which  I  afterwards  found 
was  that  of  the  illustrious  Jeremy  himself. 

'Soon  after  this,  I  invented  an  excuse  to  quit  Mr. 
Bentham  and  his  man,  promising  to  go  to  Queen's 
Square  to  dine.  I  was  not,  however,  to  be  again 
taken  in  by  the  philosopher's  meal  hours  ;  so,  laying 
in  a  stock  of  provisions,  I  went  at  his  dining  hour, 
half-past  ten  o'clock,  and  supped  with  him.  We  had 
a    great    deal     of    conversation,    particularly    about 


I30  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

mechanical  subjects  and  the  art  of  war.  I  found  the 
old  gentleman  as  lively  with  his  tongue  as  with  his 
feet,  and  passed  a  very  pleasant  evening ;  which  ended 
by  my  pointing  out,  at  his  request,  a  plan  for  playing  his 
organ  by  the  steam  of  his  tea-kettle. 

'  This  little  story,'  says  Parry,  '  gave  Byron  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure.  '  He  very  often  laughed  as  I  told  it ; 
he  laughed  much  at  its  conclusion.  He  declared, 
when  he  had  fished  out  every  little  circumstance,  that 
he  would  not  have  lost  it  for  i,ooo guineas.  Lord  Byron 
frequently  asked  me  to  repeat  what  he  called  :  Jerry 
Bentham's  Cruise.' 

Parry  tells  us  that  Byron  took  a  great  interest  in  all 
that  concerned  the  welfare  of  the  working  classes,  and 
particularly  of  the  artisans. 

'  I  have  lately  read,'  said  Byron  on  one  occasion,  '  of 
an  institution  lately  established  in  London  for  the 
instruction  of  mechanics.  I  highly  approve  of  this, 
and  intend  to  subscribe  ^50  to  it;  but  I  shall  at  the 
same  time  write  and  give  my  opinion  on  the  subject. 
I  am  always  afraid  that  schemes  of  this  kind  are 
intended  to  deceive  people;  and,  unless  all  the  offices 
in  such  an  institution  are  filled  with  real  practical 
mechanics,  the  working  classes  will  soon  find  them- 
selves deceived.  If  they  permit  any  but  mechanics 
to  have  the  direction  of  their  affairs,  they  will  only 
become  the  tools  of  others.  The  real  working  man 
will  soon  be  ousted,  and  his  more  cunning  pretended 
friends  will  take  possession  and  reap  all  the  benefits. 
It  gives  me  pleasure  to  think  what  a  mass  of  natural 
intellect  this  will  call  into  action.  If  the  plan  succeeds, 
and  I  hope  it  may,  the  ancient  aristocracy  of  England 
will  be  secure  for  ages  to  come.  The  most  useful  and 
numerous  body  of  people  in  the  nation  will  then  judge 
for  themselves,  and,  when  properly  informed,  will 
judge  correctly.  There  is  not  on  earth  a  more  honour- 
able body  of  men  than  the  English  nobility ;  and  there 
is  no  system  of  government  under  which  life  and 
property  are  better  secured  than  under  the  British 
constitution. 

'  The  mechanics  and  working  classes  who  can  main- 
tain  their   families  are,  in   my  opinion,   the  happiest 


BYRON'S  VIEWS  ON  AMERICA  131 

body  of  men.  Poverty  is  wretchedness ;  but  it  is 
perhaps  to  be  preferred  to  the  heartless,  unmeaning 
dissipation  of  the  higher  orders.  I  am  thankful  that  I 
am  now  entirely  clear  of  this,  and  my  resolution  to 
remain  clear  of  it  for  the  rest  of  my  life  is  immutable.' 

Parry  remarks  that  it  would  be  folly  to  attribute  to 
Byron  any  love  for  democracy,  as  the  term  was  then 
understood.  Although  the  bent  of  his  mind  was  more 
Liberal  than  Conservative,  he  was  not  a  party  man  in 
its  narrow  sense.  He  was  a  sworn  foe  to  injustice, 
cruelty,  and  oppression ;  such  was  the  alpha  and 
omega  of  his  political  prejudices.  He  would  be  an 
inveterate  enemy  to  any  Government  which  oppressed 
one  class  for  the  benefit  of  another  class,  and  which  did 
not  allow  its  subjects  to  be  free  and  happy. 

In  speaking  of  America,  Byron  said  : 

'  I  have  always  thought  the  mode  in  w^hich  the 
Americans  separated  from  Great  Britain  was  un- 
fortunate for  them.  It  made  them  despise  or  regret 
everything  English.  They  disinherited  themselves  of 
all  the  historical  glory  of  England ;  there  was  nothing 
left  for  them  to  admire  or  venerate  but  their  own 
immediate  success,  and  they  became  egotists,  like 
savages,  from  wanting  a  history.  The  spirit  of 
jealousy  and  animosity  excited  by  the  contests 
between  England  and  America  is  now  subsiding. 
Should  peace  continue,  prejudices  on  both  sides  will 
gradually  decrease.  Already  the  Americans  are 
beginning,  I  think,  to  cultivate  the  antiquities  of 
England,  and,  as  they  extend  their  inquiries,  they  will 
find  other  objects  of  admiration  besides  themselves. 
It  was  of  some  importance,  both  for  them  and  for  us, 
that  they  did  not  reject  our  language  with  our  govern- 
ment. Time,  I  should  hope,  will  approximate  the 
institutions  of  both  countries  to  one  another ;  and  the 
use  of  the  same  language  will  do  more  to  unite  the 
two  nations  than  if  they  both  had  only  one  King.' 


I'M^^iue 


CHAPTER  X 

According  to  Gamba's  journal,  on  the  day  following 
the  seizure  to  which  we  have  referred,  Byron  followed 
up  his  former  efforts  to  inculcate  the  principles  and 
practice  of  humanity  into  both  the  nations  engaged  in 
the  war.  There  were  twenty-four  Turks,  including 
women  and  children,  who  had  suffered  all  the  rigours 
of  captivity  at  Missolonghi  since  the  beginning  of  the 
revolution.  Byron  caused  them  to  be  released,  and 
sent  at  his  own  cost  to  Prevesa.  The  following  letter, 
which  he  addressed  to  the  English  Consul  at  that  port, 
deserves  a  place  in  this  record  : 

'  Sir, 

Coming  to  Greece,  one  of  my  principal  objects 
was  to  alleviate  as  much  as  possible  the  miseries 
incident  to  a  warfare  so  cruel  as  the  present.  When 
the  dictates  of  humanity  are  in  question,  I  know  no 
difference  between  Turks  and  Greeks.  It  is  enough 
that  those  who  want  assistance  are  men,  in  order  to 
claim  the  pity  and  protection  of  the  meanest  pretender 
to  humane  feelings.  I  have  found  here  twenty-four 
Turks,  including  women  and  children,  who  have  long- 
pined  in  distress,  far  from  the  means  of  support  and 
the  consolations  of  their  home.  The  Government  has 
consigned  them  to  me :  I  transmit  them  to  Prevesa, 
whither  they  desire  to  be  sent.  I  hope  you  will  not 
object  to  take  care  that  they  may  be  restored  to  a  place 
of  safety,  and  that  the  Governor  of  your  town  may 
accept  of  my  present.  The  best  recompense  I  can 
hope  for  would   be   to  find  that  I   had   inspired   the 

132 


THE  RELEASE  OF  PRISONERS  133 

Ottoman  commanders  with  the  same  sentiments 
towards  those  unhappy  Greeks  who  may  hereafter 
fall  into  their  hands. 

'  I  beg  you  to  believe  me,  etc., 

*  Noel  Byron.' 

The  details  of  this  incident  have  hitherto  passed 
almost  unnoticed.  The  whole  story  is  full  of  pathos, 
and  affords  a  view  of  Byron's  real  character. 

In  June,  182 1,  when  Missolonghi  and  Anatolico 
proclaimed  themselves  parts  of  independent  Greece, 
all  Turkish  residents  were  arrested.  The  males  were 
cruelly  put  to  death,  and  their  wives  and  families 
were  handed  over  to  the  Greek  householders  as 
slaves.  The  miseries  these  defenceless  people  endured 
while  Death  stared  them  daily  in  the  face  are  in- 
describable.    Millingen  says  : 

*  One  day,  as  I  entered  the  dispensary,  I  found  the 
wife  of  one  of  the  Turkish  inhabitants  of  Missolonghi 
who  had  fled  to  Patras.  The  poor  woman  came  to 
implore  my  pity,  and  begged  me  to  allow  her  to  take 
shelter  under  my  roof  from  the  brutality  and  cruelty 
of  the  Greeks.  They  had  murdered  all  her  relations, 
and  two  of  her  boys ;  and  the  marks  remained  on 
the  angle  of  the  wall  against  which,  a  few  weeks  pre- 
viously, they  had  dashed  the  brains  of  the  youngest, 
only  five  years  of  age.  A  little  girl,  nine  years  old, 
remained  to  be  the  only  companion  of  her  misery. 
Like  a  timid  lamb,  she  stood  by  her  mother,  naked 
and  shivering,  drawing  closer  and  closer  to  her  side. 
Her  little  hands  were  folded  like  a  suppliant's,  and 
her  large,  beautiful  eyes — so  accustomed  to  see  acts 
of  horror  and  cruelty — looked  at  me  now  and  then, 
hardly  daring  to  implore  pity.  "  Take  us,"  said  the 
mother ;  "  we  will  serve  you  and  be  your  slaves ;  or 
you  will  be  responsible  before  God  for  whatever 
may  happen  to  us." 

'  I  could  not  see  so  eloquent  a  picture  of  distress 
unmoved,  and  from  that  day  I  treated  them  as 
relatives.     Some  weeks  after,  I  happened  to  mention 


134  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

before  Lord  Byron  some  circumstances  relative  to 
these  individuals,  and  spoke  with  so  much  admiration 
of  the  noble  fortitude  displayed  by  the  mother  in  the 
midst  of  her  calamities  ;  of  the  courage  with  which 
maternal  love  inspired  her  on  several  occasions ;  of 
the  dignified  manner  in  which  she  replied  to  the 
insults  of  her  persecutors,  that  he  expressed  a  wish 
to  see  the  mother  and  child.  On  doing  so,  he  became 
so  struck  by  Hataje's  beauty,  the  naivete  of  her 
answers,  and  the  spiritedness  of  her  observations  on 
the  murderers  of  her  brethren,  that  he  decided  on 
adopting  her.  "  Banish  fear  for  ever  from  your  mind," 
said  he  to  the  mother ;  '*  your  child  shall  henceforth 
be  mine.  I  have  a  daughter  in  England.  To  her  I 
will  send  the  child.  They  are  both  of  the  same  age  ; 
and  as  she  is  alone,  she  will,  no  doubt,  like  a  com- 

E anion  who  may,  at  times,  talk  to  her  of  her  father. 
>o  not  shudder  at  the  idea  of  changing  your  religion, 
for  I  insist  on  your  professing  none  other  but  the 
Musulman." 

'She  seized  his  hand,  kissed  it  with  energy,  and 
raising  her  eyes  to  heaven,  eyes  now  filled  with  tears, 
she  repeated  the  familiar  words  :  "  Allah  is  great !" 
Byron  ordered  costly  dresses  to  be  made  for  them, 
and  sent  to  Hataje  a  necklace  of  sequins.  He  desired 
me  to  send  them  twice  a  week  to  his  house.  He  would 
then  take  the  little  child  on  his  knees,  and  caress  her 
with  all  the  fondness  of  a  father. 

*  From  the  moment  I  received  the  mother  and  child 
into  my  house,  the  other  unfortunate  Turkish  women, 
who  had  miraculously  escaped  the  general  slaughter, 
seeing  how  different  were  the  feelings  and  treatment 
of  the  English  towards  their  nation  and  sex  from  those 
of  the  Greeks,  began  to  feel  more  hopeful  of  their  lot  in 
life.  They  daily  called  at  my  lodgings,  and  by  means 
of  my  servant,  a  Suliote  who  spoke  Turkish  fluently, 
narrated  their  misfortunes,  and  the  numberless  horrors 
of  which  they  had  been  spectators.  One  woman  said: 
"  Our  fears  are  not  yet  over;  we  are  kept  as  victims 
for  future  sacrifices,  hourly  expecting  our  doom.  An 
unpleasant  piece  of  news,  a  drunken  party,  a  fit  of  ill- 
humour  or  of  caprice,  may  decide  our  fate.  We  are 
then  hunted  down  the  streets  like  wild  beasts,  till 
some  one  of  us,  or  of  our  children,  is  immolated  to 


I 


HATAJ£  135 

their  insatiable  cruelty.  Our  only  hope  centres  in 
you.  One  word  of  yours  to  Lord  Byron  can  save 
many  lives.  Can  you  refuse  to  speak  for  us.  Let 
Lord  Byron  send  us  to  any  part  of  Turkey.  We  are 
women  and  children  ;  can  the  Greeks  fear  us  ?" 

'  I  hastened  to  give  Lord  Byron  a  faithful  picture  of 
the  position  of  these  wretched  people.  Knowing  and 
relieving  the  distressed  were,  with  him,  simultaneous 
actions.  A  few  days  later  notice  was  given  to  every 
Turkish  woman  to  prepare  for  departure.  All,  a  few 
excepted,  embarked  and  were  conveyed  at  Byron's 
expense  to  Prevesa.  They  amounted  to  twenty-two. 
A  few  days  previously  four  Turkish  prisoners  had 
been  sent  by  him  to  Patras.  Repeated  examples  of 
humanity  like  these  were  for  the  Greeks  more  useful 
and  appropriate  lessons  than  the  finest  compositions 
which  all  the  printing-presses  could  have  spread 
amongst  them.* 

Hataj^ !  and  what  became  of  little  Hataj^  ?  On 
February  23  Byron  wrote  to  his  sister : 

*  I  have  been  obtaining  the  release  of  about  nine-and- 
twenty  Turkish  prisoners — men,  women,  and  children 
— and  have  sent  them  home  to  their  friends ;  but  one, 
a  pretty  little  girl  of  nine  years  of  age  named  Hato  or 
Hatagee,  has  expressed  a  strong  wish  to  remain  with 
me,  or  under  my  care,  and  I  have  nearly  determined 
to  adopt  her.  If  I  thought  that  Lady  B.  would 
let  her  come  to  England  as  a  companion  to  Ada  (they 
are  about  the  same  age),  and  we  could  easily  provide 
for  her ;  if  not,  I  can  send  her  to  Italy  for  education. 
She  is  very  lively  and  quick,  and  with  great  black 
Oriental  eyes  and  Asiatic  features.  All  her  brothers 
were  killed  in  the  Revolution ;  her  mother  wishes  to 
return  to  her  husband,  but  says  that  she  would  rather 
entrust  the  child  to  me,  in  the  present  state  of  the 
country.  Her  extreme  youth  and  sex  have  hitherto 
saved  her  life,  but  there  is  no  saying  what  might 
occur  in  the  course  of  the  war  (and  of  such  a  war),  and 
I  shall  probably  commit  her  to  the  charge  of  some 
English  lady  in  the  islands  for  the  present.  The 
child  herself  has  the  same  wish,  and  seems  to  have  a 


136  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

decided  character  for  her  age.  You  can  mention  this 
matter  if  you  think  it  worth  while.  I  merely  wish 
her  to  be  respectably  educated  and  treated,  and,  if 
my  years  and  all  things  be  considered,  I  presume  it 
would  be  difficult  to  conceive  me  to  have  any  other 
views.' 

Meanwhile,  Byron,  wishing  to  remove  the  child 
from  Missolonghi,  seems  to  have  proposed  to  Dr. 
Kennedy  at  Cephalonia  that  Mrs.  Kennedy  should 
take  temporary  charge  of  her.  Writing  to  Kennedy 
on  March  4,  1824,  Byron  says  : 

'  Your  future  convert  Hato,  or  Hatag^e,  appears  to 
me  lively,  intelligent,  and  promising;  she  possesses 
an  interesting  countenance.  With  regard  to  her  dis- 
position I  can  say  little,  but  Millingen  speaks  well  of 
both  mother  and  daughter,  and  he  is  to  be  relied  on. 
As  far  as  I  know,  I  have  only  seen  the  child  a  few 
times  with  her  mother,  and  what  I  have  seen  is 
favourable,  or  I  should  not  take  so  much  interest  in 
her  behalf.  If  she  turns  out  well,  my  idea  would  be 
to  send  her  to  my  daughter  in  England  (if  not  to 
respectable  persons  in  Italy),  and  so  to  provide  for 
her  as  to  enable  her  to  live  with  reputation  either 
singly  or  in  marriage,  if  she  arrive  at  maturity.  I 
will  make  proper  arrangements  about  her  expenses 
through  Messrs.  Barff  and  Hancock,  and  the  rest  I 
leave  to  your  discretion,  and  to  Mrs.  K.'s,  with  a  great 
sense  of  obligation  for  your  kindness  in  undertaking 
her  temporary  superintendence.' 

This  arrangement  fell  through,  and  was  never 
carried  out.  The  child  remained  at  Missolonghi 
with  her  mother  until  Byron's  death.  Then,  by 
the  irony  of  fate,  they  departed  in  the  Florida  — 
the  vessel  that  bore  the  dead  body  of  their  pro- 
tector to  the  inhospitable  lazaretto  at  Zante.  With 
wonderful  prophetic  instinct,  Byron,  long  before  his 
vo^^age  to  Greece,  gave  to   the  world   the  vision  of 


hatajIl  is  sent  to  PATRAS        137 

another   Hataje,  rescued   from  death  on  the  field   of 

battle  : 

'  The  Moslem  orphan  went  with  her  protector, 

For  she  was  homeless,  houseless,  helpless;  all 
Her  friends,  like  the  sad  family  of  Hector, 

Had  perished  in  the  lield  or  by  the  wall : 
Her  very  place  of  birth  was  but  a  spectre 

Of  what  it  had  been ;  there  the  Muezzin's  call 
To  prayer  was  heard  no  more — and  Juan  wept. 

And  made  a  vow  to  shield  her,  which  he  kept.' 

Blaquiere,  who  was  at  Zante  when  the  Florida  was 
placed  in  quarantine,  says  : 

'  The  child,  whom  I  have  frequently  seen  in  the 
lazaretto,  is  extremely  interesting,  and  about  eight 
years  of  age.  She  came  over  with  Byron's  body, 
under  her  mother's  care.  They  had  not  been  here 
man}^  days,  before  an  application  came  from  Usouff 
Pacha,  to  give  them  up.  It  being  customary,  when- 
ever claims  of  this  kind  are  made,  to  consult  the 
parties  themselves,  both  the  mother  and  her  child 
were  questioned  as  to  their  wishes  on  the  subject. 
The  latter,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  said  that,  had  his 
lordship  lived,  she  would  always  have  considered 
him  as  a  father;  but  as  he  was  no  more,  she  preferred 
going  back  to  her  own  country.  The  mother  having 
expressed  the  same  wish,  they  were  sent  to  Patras.' 

According  to  Millingen,  when  Hataje  and  her 
mother  arrived  at  Patras,  the  child's  father  received 
them  in  a  transport  of  joy.  '  I  thought  you  slaves,' 
said  the  father  in  embracing  them,  '  and,  lo !  you 
return  to  me  decked  like  brides.' 

And  that  is  all  that  we  know — all,  we  suppose,  that 
can  be  known — of  little  Hataje !  She  may  still  be 
alive,  the  last  survivor  of  those  who  had  spoken  to 
Byron !  If,  in  her  ninety-third  year,  she  still  recalls 
the  events  of  1824,  she  will  hold  up  the  torch  with 
modest  pride,  while  the  present  writer  commemorates 


138  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

one,  out  of  many,  of  the  noble  actions  performed  by 
the  poet  Byron. 

'  This  special  honour  was  conferred,  because 

He  had  behaved  with  courage  and  humanity — 
Which  last  men  Hke,  when  they  have  time  to  pause 

From  their  ferocities  produced  by  vanity. 
His  little  captive  gained  him  some  applause 

For  saving  her  amidst  the  wild  insanity 
Of  carnage — and  I  think  he  was  more  glad  in  her 
Safety,  than  his  new  order  of  St.  Vladimir.' 

Don  Juan,  Canto  VHI.,  CXL. 


CHAPTER  XI 

On  February  17  there  was  great  excitement  at  Misso- 
longhi  on  account  of  a  Turkish  brig-of-vvar,  which  had 
run  ashore  on  a  sand-bank  about  seven  miles  from  the 
city. 

Byron  sent  for  Parry,  and  accosted  him  in  his 
livehest  manner : 

'  Now's  the  day,  Parry,  and  now's  the  hour ;  now 
for  your  rockets,  your  fire-kites,  and  red-hot  shots  ; 
now,  Parry,  for  your  Grecian  fires.  Onward,  death  or 
victory !' 

Byron  was  still  so  weak  that  he  could  not  rise  from 
the  sofa ;  but  all  the  available  soldiers  manned  the 
Greek  boats,  and  set  off  in  the  hope  of  plunder. 
Parry  and  some  other  European  officers  went  out  to 
reconnoitre  the  brig,  and  discovered  a  broad  and  long 
neck  of  land,  which  separated  the  shallows  from  the 
sea,  upon  which  it  would  be  easy  to  plant  a  couple  of 
guns  and  make  an  attack  upon  the  brig.  Parry  sa3'^s 
that  he  had  only  two  guns  fit  for  immediate  service — 
a  long  three-pounder  and  a  howitzer.  The  attack 
was  to  be  made  on  the  following  day,  and  Byron 
gave  orders  that,  in  the  event  of  any  prisoners  being 
taken,  their  lives  were,  if  possible,  to  be  spared.  He 
offered  to  pay  two  dollars  a  head  for  each  prisoner 
saved,  to  pay  something  more  for  officers,  and  have 
them  cared  for  at  Missolonghi  at  his  own  expense.    He 

139 


140     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

also  gave  strict  orders  that  the  artillery  brigade 
should  be  kept  in  reserve,  so  as  to  relieve  and  protect 
the  Turkish  prisoners.  Early  on  the  following  day 
the  guns  were  shipped,  but,  unfortunately,  the  boats 
ran  aground,  and  much  valuable  time  was  lost.  Mean- 
while three  Turkish  brigs  came  to  the  rescue,  and 
got  into  position  so  as  to  enfilade  the  beach.  They 
manned  their  boats  and  tried  to  haul  the  brig  into 
deep  water,  but  without  success ;  and  seeing  the 
Greeks  preparing  to  attack,  they  thought  it  better  to 
sheer  off.  But  before  doing  so  they  managed  to 
remove  all  the  men,  and  as  many  of  the  brig's  stores 
as  they  could  save,  and  then  set  the  vessel  on  fire. 
Although  Byron  was  disappointed  in  not  having 
captured  a  prize,  he  was  glad  to  hear  that  the  brig 
had  been  burnt  to  the  water's  edge.  It  was  estimated 
that  the  loss  of  that  vessel  to  the  enemy  would 
amount  to  nearly  20,000  dollars,  and  the  little 
garrison  of  Missolonghi  was  highly  elated  at  so 
important  an  achievement. 

On  February  19  a  serious  event  occurred,  which 
caused  something  like  a  revolution  at  Missolonghi, 
and  might  have  been  attended  with  more  serious  con- 
sequences if  Byron  had  not  shown  a  firm  hand.  It  is 
thus  related  by  Millingen  : 

'  A  sentry  had  been  placed  at  the  gate  of  the 
Seraglio  to  prevent  anyone  who  did  not  belong  to 
the  laboratory  from  entering.  A  Suliote  named  Toti, 
presented  himself,  and,  without  paying  the  slightest 
attention  to  the  prohibition,  boldly  walked  in.  Lieu- 
tenant Sass,  a  Swede,  informed  of  this,  came  up  to  the 
Suliote,  and,  pushing  him  roughly,  ordered  him  to  go 
out.  On  his  refusal  the  officer  drew  his  sword  and 
struck  him  with  its  flat  side.  Incensed  at  this,  the 
Suliote,  who  was  of  Herculean  strength,  cut  the 
Swede's  left  arm  almost  entirely  off  with  one  stroke 


DEATH  OF  LIEUTENANT  SASS         141 

of  his  yataghan,  and  immediately  after  shot  him 
through  the  head.  The  soldiers  belonging  to  the 
artillery  brigade  shut  the  gate,  and  after  inflicting 
several  wounds  on  Toti,  who  continued  to  defend 
himself,  succeeded  in  securing  him.  His  country- 
men, with  whom  he  was  a  favourite,  being  informed 
of  the  accident,  hastened  to  the  Seraglio,  and  would 
have  proceeded  to  acts  of  violence,  had  not  their 
comrade  been  delivered  into  their  hands.  The  next 
morning  Lieutenant  Sass  was  buried  with  military 
honours.  The  Suliotes  attended  the  funeral ;  and  thus 
terminated  the  temporary  misunderstanding  between 
them  and  the  Franks.' 

It  appears,  from  Gamba's  account  of  this  unfortunate 
affair,  that  Lieutenant  Sass  was  universally  esteemed 
as  one  of  the  best  and  bravest  of  the  foreigners  in  the 
service  of  Greece.  The  Suliote  chiefs  laid  all  the 
blame  of  this  affray  on  Sass  himself,  whose  impru- 
dence in  striking  one  of  the  proud  and  warlike  race 
cannot  be  justified. 

The  Suliotes  had  already  given  many  proofs  ot 
lawless  insubordination,  and  several  skirmishes  had 
previously  taken  place  between  them  and  the  people 
of  Missolonghi.  This  last  affair  brought  matters  to 
a  head,  and  Byron  agreed,  with  the  Primates  and 
Mavrocordato,  that  these  lawless  troops  must,  at  any 
cost,  be  got  rid  of. 

Not  only  did  their  presence  at  Missolonghi  alarm 
its  inhabitants,  but  their  fighting  value  had  diminished, 
owing  to  their  determination  not  to  take  any  part  in 
the  projected  siege  of  Lepanto,  alleging  as  a  reason 
that  they  were  not  disposed  to  fight  against  stone 
walls.  Thear  dismissal  was,  however,  not  an  easy 
matter,  for  they  were  practically  masters  of  the  city, 
and  claimed  3,000  dollars  as  arrears  of  pay.  The 
Primates,  being  applied  to  by   Byron,  declared  that 


142  BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

they  had  no  money.  Under  these  circumstances  it 
became  absolutely  necessary  for  Byron  to  find  the 
money  himself,  which  he  did  on  the  understanding 
that  the  Primates  bound  themselves  to  clear  the  town 
of  this  turbulent  band.  Upon  payment  of  this  money 
the  Suliotes  packed  up  their  effects,  and  departed  for 
Arta,  thus  putting  an  end  to  all  Byron's  hopes  of 
capturing  the  fortress  of  Lepanto.  A  report  was  at 
this  time  circulated  in  Missolonghi  that  the  Turkish 
authorities  had  set  a  price  on  the  lives  of  all  Europeans 
engaged  in  the  Greek  service.  This  rumour  added 
enormously  to  the  difficulties  of  the  situation  ;  for  the 
artificers,  whom  Parry  had  brought  out  from  England 
to  work  in  the  arsenal,  struck  work,  and  applied  to 
Byron  for  permission  to  return  home.  They  said 
that  they  had  bargained  to  be  conducted  into  a  place 
of  safety.  Byron  tried,  says  Gamba,  to  persuade 
them  that  the  affray  had  been  accidental,  that,  after 
the  departure  of  the  Suliotes,  nothing  of  the  kind 
would  happen  again,  and  so  long  as  he  himself 
remained  there  could  not  be  any  serious  danger. 
But  all  arguments  were  useless ;  the  men  were 
thoroughly  demoralized,  and  went  from  Byron's 
presence  unshaken  in  their  resolve  to  return  to  their 
native  land. 

B3'ron,  writing  to  Kennedy  on  March  lo,  says  with 
his  usual  good-nature  : 

*  The  mechanics  were  all  pretty  much  of  the  same 
mind.  Perhaps  they  are  less  to  blame  than  is  imagined, 
since  Colonel  Stanhope  is  said  to  have  told  them  that 
he  could  not  positively  say  their  lives  were  safe.  I  should 
like  to  know  zvhere  our  life  is  safe,  either  here  or  any- 
where else  ?  With  regard  to  a  place  of  safety,  at 
least  such  hermetically  sealed  safety  as  these  persons 
appeared  to  desiderate,  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  Greece, 


ENGLISH  ARTIFICERS  LEAVE  143 

at  any  rate ;  but  Missolonghi  was  supposed  to  be  the 
place  where  they  would  be  useful,  and  their  risk  was 
no  greater  than  that  of  others.' 

In  a  letter  to  Barff,  some  days  later,  Byron  once 
more  alludes  to  these  artificers,  whose  absence  began 
to  be  seriously  felt  at  the  arsenal : 

*  Captain  Parry  will  write  to  you  himself  on  the 
subject  of  the  artificers'  wages,  but,  with  all  due  allow- 
ance for  their  situation,  I  cannot  see  a  great  deal  to 
pity  in  their  circumstances.  They  were  well  paid, 
housed  and  fed,  expenses  granted  of  every  kind,  and 
they  marched  off  at  the  first  alarm.  Were  they  more 
exposed  than  the  rest  ?  or  so  much  ?  Neither  are  they 
very  much  embarrassed,  for  Captain  Parry  says  that 
he  knows  all  of  them  have  money,  and  one  in  par- 
ticular a  considerable  sum.' 

These  are  the  men  in  whose  interests  Byron  had 
written  to  Barff : 

'  Six  Englishmen  will  soon  be  in  quarantine  at 
Zante ;  they  are  artificers,  and  have  had  enough  of 
Greece  in  fourteen  days ;  if  you  could  recommend 
them  to  a  passage  home,  I  would  thank  you ;  they  are 
good  men  enough,  but  do  not  quite  understand  the 
little  discrepancies  in  these  countries,  and  are  not 
used  to  see  shooting  and  slashing  in  a  domestic  quiet 
way,  or  (as  it  forms  here)  a  part  of  housekeeping.  If 
they  should  want  anything  during  their  quarantine, 
you  can  advance  them  not  more  than  a  dollar  a  day 
(amongst  them)  for  that  period,  to  purchase  them  some 
little  extras  as  comforts  (as  they  are  quite  out  of  their 
element).  I  cannot  afford  them  more  at  present.  I'he 
Committee  pays  their  passage.' 

Byron  was  exceedingly  vexed  by  these  proceedings, 
and  began  to  lose  all  hope  of  being  of  any  real  service 
to  the  Greeks.  He  told  Gamba  that  he  had  lost  time, 
money,  patience,  and  even  health,  only  to  meet  with 
deception,  calumny,  and  ingratitude.     Gamba  begged 


144     BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Byron  to  visit  Athens,  partly  for  the  benefit  of  his 
health,  and  partly  to  be  quit  for  a  time  from  the 
daily  annoyances  to  which  he  was  subjected.  But  he 
refused,  and  determined  to  remain  in  that  dismal 
swamp  until  he  saw  what  turn  things  would  take  in 
the  Morea,  and  until  he  received  news  of  the  success 
of  the  loan  from  London.  He  resolved  meanwhile  to 
fortify  Missolonghi  and  Anatolico,  and  to  drill  the 
Greek  troops  into  something  like  discipline. 

In  order  to  reorganize  the  artillery  brigade,  Byron 
agreed  to  furnish  money  which  would  encourage  the 
Greeks  to  enlist.  Artillery  was  the  only  arm  that  it 
was  possible  to  form,  as  there  were  no  muskets 
with  bayonets  suitable  for  infantry  regiments,  and  the 
artillery  was  deficient  both  in  officers  and  men.  With 
great  difficulty  Parry  succeeded  in  collecting  some 
Greek  artificers,  and  made  some  slight  progress  with 
his  laboratory. 

The  weather  improved,  and  Byron  was  able  to  take 
long  rides,  which  had  an  excellent  effect  on  his  health 
and  spirits.  Artillery  recruits  came  in  faster  than 
was  expected,  and  were  regularly  trained  for  efficient 
service.  It  seemed  as  though  the  tide  had  turned. 
At  about  this  time  Byron  received  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Barff,  strongly  urging  his  return  to  Zante  for 
the  purpose  of  regaining  his  usual  health,  which  it 
was  feared  he  would  not  attain  at  Missolonghi.  Byron 
was  touched  by  this  mark  of  friendship,  but  would  not 
grasp  the  hand  that  might  have  saved  his  life, 

*  I  am  extremely  obliged  by  your  offer  of  your 
country  house  (as  for  all  other  kindness),  in  case  that 
m}^  health  should  require  any  removal ;  but  I  cannot 
quit  Greece  while  there  is  a  chance  of  my  being 
of  (even  supposed)  utility.  There  is  a  stake  worth 
millions  such  as  I  am,  and  while  I  can  stand  at  all. 


<M. 


BYRON'S  SULIOTE  GUARD  145 

I  must  stand  by  the  cause.  While  I  say  this,  I  am 
aware  of  the  difficulties,  dissensions,  and  defects  of 
the  Greeks  themselves  ;  but  allowances  must  be  made 
for  them  by  all  reasonable  people.' 

It  may  seem  strange,  but  it  is  nevertheless  certain, 
that  Byron  found  more  pleasure  in  the  society  of 
Parry,  that  'rough,  burly  fellow,'  than  he  did  in  the 
companionship  of  anyone  else  at  Missolonghi.  He 
thoroughly  trusted  the  man,  and  even  confided  in  him 
without  reserve.  Parry  appreciated  the  honour  of 
Byron's  intimacy,  and  his  evidence  of  what  passed 
during  the  last  few  weeks  of  Byron's  life  is,  so  far  as 
we  are  able  to  judge,  quite  reliable.  He  tells  us  that 
Byron  had  taken  a  small  body  of  Suliotes  into  his 
own  pay,  and  kept  them  about  his  person  as  a  body- 
guard. They  consisted  altogether  of  fifty-six  men, 
and  of  these  a  certain  number  were  always  on  duty. 
A  large  outer  room  in  Byron's  house  was  used  by 
them,  and  their  carbines  were  hung  upon  its  walls. 

'  In  this  room,'  says  Parry,  '  and  among  these  rude 
soldiers.  Lord  Byron  was  accustomed  to  walk  a  great 
deal,  especially  in  wet  weather.  On  these  occasions 
he  was  almost  always  accompanied  by  his  favourite 
dog,  Lion,  who  was  perhaps  his  dearest  and  most 
affectionate  friend.  They  were,  indeed,  very  seldom 
separated.  Riding  or  walking,  sitting  or  standing, 
Lion  was  his  constant  attendant.  He  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  have  forsaken  him  even  in  sleep.  Every 
evening  Lion  went  to  see  that  his  master  was  safe 
before  he  lay  down  himself,  and  then  he  took  his 
station  close  to  his  door,  a  guard  certainly  as  faithful 
as  Lord  Byron's  Suliotes. 

*  With  Lion  Lord  Byron  was  accustomed,  not  only 
to  associate,  but  to  commune  very  much.  His  most 
usual  phrase  was,  "  Lion,  you  are  no  rogue.  Lion  ";  or, 
'*  Lion,  thou  art  an  honest  fellow.  Lion."  The  dog's 
eyes  sparkled,  and  his  tail  swept  the  floor,  as  he  sat 
with  haunches  on  the  ground.     "  Thou  art  more  faith- 

10 


146     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

ful  than  men,  Lion ;  I  trust  thee  more."  Lion  sprang 
up,  and  barked,  and  bounded  round  his  master,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  You  may  trust  me ;  1  will  watch 
actively  on  every  side."  Then  Byron  would  fondle 
the  dog,  and  say,  "  Lion,  I  love  thee  ;  thou  art  my 
faithful  dog!"  and  Lion  jumped  and  kissed  his  master's 
hand,  by  way  of  acknowledgment.  In  this  manner, 
when  in  the  dog's  company,  Byron  passed  a  good  deal 
of  time,  and  seemed  more  contented  and  happy  than 
at  any  other  hour  during  the  day.  This  valuable  and 
affectionate  animal  was,  after  Byron's  death,  brought 
to  England  and  placed  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  Leigh, 
his  lordship's  sister.' 

Parry  gives  a  graphic  description  of  the  state  of 
Missolonghi  during  this  period,  which  compelled 
Byron  to  take  a  circuitous  route  whenever  the  state  of 
the  weather  permitted  him  to  ride.  The  pavements 
and  condition  of  the  streets  were  so  bad  that  it  was 
impossible  to  ride  through  them  without  the  risk  of 
breaking  one's  neck. 

'  Lord  Byron's  horses  were  therefore  generally  led 
to  the  gate  of  the  town,  while  his  lordship,  in  a  small 
punt,  was  rowed  along  the  harbour,  and  up  what  is 
called  the  Military  Canal.  This  terminates  not  far 
from  the  gate;  here  he  would  land,  and  mount  his 
horse.' 

The  Suliote  guard  always  attended  Byron  during 
his  rides  ;  and,  though  on  foot,  it  was  surprising  to 
see  their  swiftness,  says  Parry.  With  carbines 
carried  at  the  trail  in  their  right  hands,  these  agile 
mountaineers  kept  pace  with  the  horses,  even  when 
Byron  went  at  a  gallop.  It  was  a  matter  of  honour 
with  these  Suliotes  never  to  desert  their  chief;  for 
they  considered  themselves  responsible  both  to  Greece 
and  to  England  for  his  safety.     Parry  says  : 

'  They  were  tall  men,  and  remarkably  well  formed. 
Perhaps,  taken  all  together,  no  Sovereign  in  Europe 


BYRON  ATTENDS  PARADES     147 

could  boast  of  having  a  finer  set  of  men  for  his  body- 
guard.' 

Byron  while  in  Greece  abandoned  his  habit  of 
spending  the  whole  morning  in  bed,  as  was  his  custom 
in  Italy.  He  rose  at  nine  o'clock,  and  breakfasted  at 
ten.  This  meal  consisted  of  tea  without  either  milk  or 
sugar,  dry  toast,  and  water-cresses. 

'  During  his  breakfast,'  says  Parry,  *  I  generally 
waited  on  him  to  make  the  necessary  reports,  and  to 
take  his  orders  for  the  work  of  the  day.  When  this 
business  was  settled,  I  retired  to  give  the  orders 
which  I  had  received,  and  returned  to  Lord  Byron  by 
eleven  o'clock  at  latest.  His  lordship  would  then 
inspect  the  accounts,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  his 
secretary,  checked  every  item  in  a  business  -  like 
manner.  If  the  weather  permitted,  he  afterwards 
rode  out;  if  it  did  not,  he  used  to  amuse  himself  by 
shooting  at  a  mark  with  pistols.  Though  his  hand 
trembled  much,  his  aim  was  sure,  and  he  could  hit  an 
egg  four  times  out  of  five  at  a  distance  often  or  twelve 
yards.' 

After  an  early  dinner,  composed  of  dried  toast, 
vegetables,  and  cheese,  with  a  very  small  quantity  of 
wine  or  cider  (Parry  assures  us  that  he  never  drank 
any  spirituous  liquors  during  any  part  of  the  day  or 
night).  Byron  would  attend  the  drilling  of  the  officers 
of  his  corps,  in  an  outer  apartment  of  his  own  dwell- 
ing, and  went  through  all  the  exercises  which  it  was 
proper  for  them  to  learn.  When  this  was  finished  he 
very  often  played  a  bout  of  singlestick,  or  underwent 
some  other  severe  muscular  exertion.  He  then  retired 
for  the  evening,  to  spin  yarns  with  his  friends  or  to 
study  military  tactics.     Parry  says  : 

'  At  eleven  o'clock  I  left  him,  and  I  was  generally 
the  last  person  he  saw,  except  his  servants.  He  then 
retired,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  study.     Till  nearly  four 

10—2 


148  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

o'clock  every  morning  Byron  was  continually  engaged 
reading  or  writing,  and  rarely  slept  more  than  five 
hours.  In  this  manner  did  he  pass  nearly  every  day 
of  the  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  him.' 

It  was  at  the  end  of  February  that  Mr.  George 
Finlay,  who  afterwards  wrote  a  '  History  of  Greece,' 
arrived  at  Missolonghi.  He  brought  a  message 
from  Odysseus,  and  also  from  Edward  Trelawny, 
inviting  both  Byron  and  Mavrocordato  to  a  Con- 
ference at  Salona.  Gamba,  writing  on  February  28, 
1824,  says  : 

*  We  had  news  from  the  Morea  that  their  discords 
were  almost  at  an  end.  The  Government  was  daily 
acquiring  credit.  .  .  .  On  the  whole,  Greek  affairs 
appeared  to  take  as  favourable  an  aspect  as  we  could 
well  desire.  .  .  .  My  Lord  and  Prince  Mavrocordato 
have  settled  to  go  to  Salona  in  a  fortnight.' 

On  the  following  day  Gamba  wrote  in  his  journal 
these  ominous  words  : 

*  Lord  Byron  is  indisposed.  He  complained  to  me 
that  he  was  often  attacked  by  vertigoes,  which  made 
him  feel  as  if  intoxicated.  He  had  also  very  disagree- 
able nervous  sensations,  which  he  said  resembled  the 
feeling  of  fear,  although  he  knew  there  was  no  cause 
for  alarm.  The  weather  got  worse,  and  he  could  not 
ride  on  horseback.' 

On  March  13  all  the  shops  in  the  town  of  Missolonghi 
were  shut,  owing  to  a  report  that  there  was  a  case  of  the 
plague  there.  It  seems  that  a  Greek  merchant  who 
came  from  Gastuni  was  attacked  with  violent  sickness 
and  died  within  a  few  hours.  After  death  several 
black  pustules  appeared  on  his  face,  arms,  and  back. 
The  doctors  were  undecided  as  to  whether  it  was  a 
case   of  poisoning  or  of  plague.     It  was  ascertained 


A  SCARE  OF  PLAGUE  149 

that  great  mortality  prevailed  at  Gastuni,  but  whether 
the  plague  or  a  fever  was  not  known.  Every  possible 
precaution  was  taken  to  prevent  infection,  and  the 
greatest  alarm  prevailed  in  the  town.  Everyone 
walked  with  a  stick,  to  keep  off  the  passer-by.  It  was 
realized  by  the  doctors  that,  in  a  country  so  devoid  o 
cleanliness,  the  plague  would  make  alarming  strides. 
Byron  sent  an  express  to  Zante  to  communicate  the 
intelligence  to  the  Resident,  and  began  to  make  plans 
for  going  into  the  mountains  if  the  plague  broke  out. 
On  the  following  day  news  arrived  from  Gastuni  that 
there  were  no  cases  of  the  plague  there.  This  intelli- 
gence restored  a  general  confidence,  and  business  was 
resumed  as  usual.     Meanwhile,  says  Gamba, 

*  the  drilling  of  our  company  made  great  progress,  and 
in  three  or  four  weeks  we  should  have  been  ready  to 
take  the  field.  We  exercised  the  brigade  in  all  sorts 
of  movements.  Lord  Byron  joined  us,  and  practised 
with  us  at  the  sabre  and  foil :  notwithstanding  his 
lameness,  he  was  very  adroit.* 

The  following  anecdote,  which  is  given  on  the 
authority  of  Parry,  will  show  the  respect  in  which 
Byron  was  held  by  the  peasants  in  Greece  : 

'  Byron  one  day  returned  from  his  ride  more  than 
usually  pleased.  An  interesting  country-woman,  with 
a  fine  family,  had  come  out  of  her  cottage  and  pre- 
sented him  with  a  curd  cheese  and  some  honey,  and 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  accept  payment  for  it. 

'"  I  have  felt,"  he  said,  "  more  pleasure  this  day,  and 
at  this  circumstance,  than  for  a  long  time  past."  Then, 
describing  to  me  where  he  had  seen  her,  he  ordered 
me  to  find  her  out,  and  make  her  a  present  in  return. 
"The  peasantry,"  he  said,  "are  by  far  the  most  kind, 
humane,  and  honest  part  of  the  population ;  they 
redeem  the  character  of  their  countrymen.  The  other 
classes  are  so  debased  by  slavery — accustomed,  like 
all  slaves,  never  to  speak  truth,   but  only  what  will 


ISO     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

please  their  masters — that  they  cannot  be  trusted. 
Greece  would  not  be  worth  saving  but  for  the 
peasantry." 

*  Lord  Byron  then  sat  down  to  his  cheese,  and 
insisted  on  our  partaking  of  his  fare.  A  bottle  of 
porter  was  sent  for  and  broached,  that  we  might  join 
Byron  in  drinking  health  and  happiness  to  the  kind 
family,  which  had  procured  him  so  great  a  pleasure.' 


CHAPTER  XII 

It  has  been  suggested  by  Byron's  enemies  that  he 
flattered  himself  with  the  notion  of  some  day  becoming 
King  of  Greece,  and  that  his  conduct  during  the 
latter  part  of  his  life  was  influenced  by  ambition. 
The  idea  is,  of  course,  absurd.  No  one  knew  better 
than  Byron  that  the  Greek  leaders  were  not  disposed 
to  accept  a  King  at  that  time.  He  also  knew  that,  in 
order  to  attain  that  position,  it  would  have  been 
necessary  to  have  recourse  to  measures  which  were 
utterly  repugnant  to  his  deep  sense  of  humanity  and 
justice.  That  Byron  may  have  been  sounded  by  some  of 
the  intriguing  chieftains  with  some  such  suggestion  is 
more  than  probable,  but  he  was  far  too  honest  to  walk 
into  the  snare.     One  day  he  said  to  Parry : 

*  I  have  experienced,  since  my  arrival  at  Missolonghi, 
offers  that  would  surprise  you,  were  I  to  tell  you  of 
them,  and  which  would  turn  the  head  of  any  man  less 
satiated  than  I  am,  and  more  desirous  of  possessing 
power  than  of  contributing  to  freedom  and  happiness. 
To  all  these  offers,  and  to  every  application  made  to 
me,  which  had  a  tendency  to  provoke  disputes  or 
increase  discord,  I  have  always  replied :  "  I  came  here 
to  serve  Greece ;  agree  among  yourselves  for  the 
good  of  your  country,  and  whatever  is  your  imited 
resolve,  and  whatever  the  Government  commands,  I 
shall  be  ready  to  support  with  my  fortune  and  my 
sword."  We  who  came  here  to  fight  for  Greece  have 
no  right  to  meddle  with  its  internal  affairs,  or  dictate 
to  the  people  or  Government' 

151 


152  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

That  Byron,  if  he  had  lived,  and  if  he  had  chosen  to 
usurp  power,  could  have  made  himself  a  Dictator 
admits  of  no  doubt.  In  the  then  state  of  that  distracted 
country,  and  the  well-known  mercenary  disposition  of 
the  Greeks,  he  might  with  his  dollars  have  raised  an 
army  which  would  have  made  him  supreme  in  Greece. 

'  No  single  chieftain,'  Parry  says,  '  could  have  re- 
sisted ;  and  all  of  them  would  have  been  compelled — 
because  they  would  not  trust  one  another — to  join 
their  forces  with  Byron's.  The  whole  of  the  Suliotes 
were  at  his  beck  and  call.  He  could  have  procured 
the  assassination  of  any  man  in  Greece  for  a  sum  too 
trifling  to  mention.' 

But  Byron  had  no  such  views ;  he  never  wished  to 
possess  political  power  in  Greece.  He  had  come  to 
serve  the  Greeks  on  their  own  conditions,  and  nothing 
could  have  made  him  swerve  from  that  intention. 

Byron's  talk  with  Trelawny  at  Cephalonia  on 
this  subject  was  not  serious,  and  it  took  place  before 
he  had  mastered  all  the  perplexing  problems  connected 
with  Greece. 

It  is  to  Byron's  lasting  credit  that,  with  so  many 
opportunities  for  self-aggrandizement,  he  should  have 
proved  himself  so  unselfish  and  high-minded. 

What  might  have  happened  if  he  had  been  able  to 
attend  the  Congress  at  Salona  we  shall  never  know. 
But  we  feel  confident,  from  a  long  and  close  study  of 
Byron's  character,  that,  even  if  the  Government  and 
the  chieftains  had  offered  him  the  throne  of  Greece, 
he  would  have  refused  it.  Not  only  would  such  a 
throne  have  been,  figuratively,  poised  in  air,  swayed 
by  every  breath  which  the  rival  chieftains  would  have 
blown  upon  it,  but  Byron  himself  would  have  been 
accused,  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Europe, 
of  exploiting   the   sufferings  of  Greece  for   his  own 


TROUBLES  IN  THE  MOREA  153 

personal  aggrandizement.  While  we  are  discussing 
this  question,  it  is  well  to  understand  the  position  of 
affairs  at  the  time  when  the  proposal  to  hold  a 
Congress  at  Salona  was  made. 

The  ostensible  object  of  the  Congress  was  to  shake 
hands  all  round,  to  let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  to 
unite  all  available  forces  in  a  spirit  of  amity.  It  was 
high  time.  The  Moreawas  troubled  by  the  hostilities 
between  Colocotroni's  men  and  Government  factions. 
Colocotroni*  himself  was  shut  up  in  Tripolitza,  and  his 
son  Pano  in  Napoli  di  Romagna.  Eastern  Greece  was 
more  or  less  tranquil.  Odysseus  f  was  at  Negropont, 
from  whence  seven  hundred  Albanians  had  lately 
absconded.  The  passes  of  Thermopylae  were  insecure. 
Although  Western  Greece  was  for  the  moment  tranquil, 
life  in  Missolonghi  was  not  worth  an  hour's  purchase ; 
and  there  was  a  serious  split  between  the  so-called 
Odysseans  and  the  party  of  Mavrocordato,  skilfully 
fostered  by  both  Colonel  Stanhope  and  Odysseus. 
Though  Candia  was  subdued,  the  peasantry  threatened 
a  rising  in  the  mountains ;  the  Albanians  were  dis- 
contented ;  and,  finally,  the  Government  itself  was  not 
sleeping  on  a  bed  of  roses,  for  it  had  most  of  the  great 
military  chiefs  dead  against  it. 

There  were,  in  fact,  at  that  time  two  Governments — 
one  at  Argos  and  one  at  Tripolitza — and  both  hostile 

*  One  of  the  turbulent  capitani  who  was  playing  for  his  own  hand. 
He  was  at  one  time  a  member  of  the  Executive  Body,  and  was 
afterwards  proclaimed  by  the  Legislative  Assembly  as  an  enemy  of 
the  State. 

t  A  leader  of  Greek  insurgents — Byron  calls  him  Ulysses — who 
broke  away  from  Government  control  to  form  an  independent  party 
in  opposition  to  Mavrocordato,  with  whose  views  Byron  sympathized. 
Trelawny  and  Colonel  Stanhope  believed  in  Odysseus,  who  after 
having  acquired  great  influence  in  Eastern  Greece  was  proclaimed 
by  the  Government,  imprisoned,  and  murdered  while  in  captivity. 


154  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

to  each  other.  The  Primates  were  in  favour  of  a 
Turkish  form  of  government,  and  they  had  great 
influence  in  the  Morea.  The  chiefs,  on  the  contrary, 
while  professing  democratic  principles,  were  really  in 
favour  of  frank  terrorism  and  plunder.  Some  of  them 
were  personally  brave;  others  were  the  offspring  of 
heroes,  whom  the  Turks  had  never  been  able  to 
subdue,  and  who  held  a  sort  of  feudal  tenure  over 
lands  which  they  had  kept  by  the  sword.  The  people 
of  the  Peloponnesus  were  under  the  influence  of  the 
civil  and  military  oligarchs;  those  of  Eastern  and 
Western  Greece  were  chiefly  under  the  captains.  Of 
these,  Odysseus  and  Mavrocordato  were  the  most 
influential.  The  islands  Hydra  and  Spezzia  were 
under  the  influence  of  some  rich  oligarchs ;  while 
Ipsara  was  purely  democratic.  The  only  virtue  to 
be  found  in  Greece  was  monopolized  by  the  peasantry, 
who  had  passed  through  a  long  period  of  Turkish 
oppression  without  being  tainted  by  that  corruption 
which  was  so  prevalent  in  the  towns.  Indeed,  the 
peasants  and  some  of  the  islanders  were  the  finest 
examples  of  the  'national'  party,  which  had  never 
been  subdued  by  military  or  civil  tyrants.  When  we 
consider  the  mercenary  character  of  the  Greeks,  their 
real  or  assumed  poverty,  their  insatiable  demands  for 
Byron's  money ;  when  one  realizes  the  hopeless  tangle 
into  which  greed  and  ambition  had  thrown  the  affairs 
of  Greece  (the  open  hostility  of  the  capitanis  to  any 
settled  form  of  government),  it  is  evident  that  the 
supreme  management  of  such  a  circus  would  have 
been  no  sinecure.  No  one  believed  that  Greece, 
under  the  conditions  then  prevailing,  would  have  found 
repose  under  a  foreign  King.  Nothing  short  of  a  cruel, 
unflinching  despotism  would  have  quieted  the  country. 


ANDREA  LONDOS  i5S 

It  is,  of  course,  possible  that  the  chiefs  assembled  at 
Salona  would  have  offered  to  Byron  the  general  direc- 
tion of  affairs  in  the  western  continent.  Gamba  says 
that  he  had  heard  rumours  to  the  effect  that  in  a  short 
time  the  general  government  of  Greece  would  have 
been  placed  in  Byron's  hands.  *  Considering,' he  says, 
'  the  vast  addition  to  his  authority  which  the  arrival 
of  the  moneys  from  England  would  have  insured  to 
Byron,  such  an  idea  is  by  no  means  chimerical.' 

Writing  to  Barff  on  March  22,  Byron  says  : 

*  In  a  few  days  Prince  Mavrocordato  and  myself 
intend  to  proceed  to  Salona  at  the  request  of  Odysseus 
and  the  chiefs  of  Eastern  Greece,  to  concert,  if  possible, 
a  plan  of  union  between  Western  and  Eastern  Greece, 
and  to  take  measures,  offensive  and  defensive,  for  the 
ensuing  campaign,  Mavrocordato  is  almost  recalled 
by  the  new  Government  to  the  Morea  (to  take  the 
lead,  I  rather  think),  and  they  have  written  to  propose 
to  me  to  go  either  to  the  Morea  with  him,  or  to  take 
the  general  direction  of  affairs  in  this  quarter  with 
General  Londos,  and  any  other  I  may  choose,  to  form 
a  Council.  Andrea  Londos  is  my  old  friend  and 
acquaintance,  since  we  were  lads  in  Greece  together. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  give  a  positive  answer  till  the 
Salona  meeting  is  over ;  but  I  am  willing  to  serve 
them  in  any  capacity  they  please,  either  commanding 
or  commanded — it  is  much  the  same  to  me,  as  long  as 
I  can  be  of  any  presumed  use  to  them.' 


CHAPTER  XIII 

On  March  22  news  reached  Missolonghi  that  the 
Greek  loan  had  been  successfully  raised  in  London. 
Byron  sent  this  welcome  intelligence  to  the  Greek 
Government,  with  a  request  that  no  time  should  be  lost 
in  fitting  out  the  fleet  at  the  different  islands.  The 
artillery  corps  at  Missolonghi  was  augmented  by  one 
hundred  regular  troops  under  the  command  of  Lambro, 
a  brave  Suliote  chief,  for  the  better  protection  of  the 
guns  stationed  in  the  mountains.  Unfortunately,  the 
weather,  upon  which  Byron  so  much  depended  for 
exercise,  could  not  possibly  have  been  worse.  In- 
cessant rain  and  impassable  roads  confined  him  to  the 
house  until  his  health  was  seriously  affected.  He 
constantly  complained  of  oppression  on  his  chest,  and 
was  altogether  in  a  depressed  condition  of  mind. 

On  the  day  fixed  for  his  departure  for  Salona,  the 
River  Phidari  was  so  swollen  as  not  to  be  fordable,  and 
the  roads  in  every  direction  were  impassable.  For 
many  days  the  rain  poured  down  in  torrents,  until,  to 
employ  Byron's  quaint  phrase,  '  The  dykes  of  Holland, 
when  broken  down,  would  be  the  deserts  of  Arabia 
for  dryness,  in  comparison.' 

On  March  28  an  event  occurred  to  which  Byron  has 
alluded  in  his  published  correspondence.  It  was  a 
trifling  matter  enough,  but  might  have  had  serious 
consequences  if  Byron  had  not  shown  great  firmness. 

156 


A  DUEL  PREVENTED  157 

One  of  the  artillerymen,   an    Italian,   had   robbed   a 
poor  peasant  in  the  market-place  of  25  piastres.     The 
man    was    in    due   course    arrested,    tried    by    court- 
martial,  and  convicted.     There  was  no  doubt  as  to  his 
guilt,  but  a  serious  dispute  arose  among  the  officers 
as  to  his   punishment.     The   Germans  were   for  the 
bastinado ;  but  that  was  contrary  to  the  French  military 
code,  under  which    the   man   was   tried,   and   Byron 
strongly  opposed  its  infliction.     He  declared  that,  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  no  barbarous  usages  should 
be  introduced  into  Greece,  especially  as  such  a  mode 
of  punishment  would  disgust  rather  than  reform.     He 
proposed    that,   instead  of  corporal   punishment,   the 
offender  should  have  his  uniform  stripped  off  his  back, 
and  be  marched  through  the  streets,  bearing  a  label 
describing  the  nature  of  his  offence.     He  was  then  to 
be  handed  over  to  the  regular  police  and  imprisoned 
for  a  time.     This  example  of  severity,  tempered  by 
humanity,    produced    an    excellent    effect   upon    the 
soldiers  and  the  citizens  of  Missolonghi.    In  the  course 
of  the  evening  some  high  words  passed  on  the  subject 
between  three  Englishmen,  two  of  them  being  officers 
of  the  brigade,  cards  were  exchanged,  and  two  duels 
were  to  be  fought  the  next  morning.     Byron  did  not 
hear   of  this  until  late   at  night.      He  then   ordered 
Gamba  to  arrest  the  whole  party.     When  they  were 
afterwards    brought    before    Byron,    he    with    some 
difficulty  prevailed  upon  them  to  shake  hands,  and  thus 
averted  a  serious  scandal.    Gamba,  w^riting  on  March  30, 
says  that  the  Primates  of  Missolonghi  on  that   day 
presented  Byron  with  the  freedom  of  their  town. 

'This  new  honour,'  he  says,  'did  but  entail  upon 
Lord  Byron  the  necessity  for  greater  sacrifices.  The 
poverty  of  the  Government  and  the  town  became  daily 


158  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

more  apparent.  They  could  not  furnish  the  soldiers' 
rations  nor  pay  their  arrears ;  nor  was  there  forthcom- 
ing a  single  piastre  of  the  1,500  dollars  which  the 
Primates  had  agreed  to  furnish  for  the  fortifications. 
Thus  the  whole  charge  fell  upon  Lord  Byron.' 

On  the  following  night  a  Greek  came  with  tears 
rolling  down  his  cheeks,  and  complained  that  one  of 
Byron's  soldiers  had,  in  a  drunken  frenzy,  broken 
open  his  door  and  with  drawn  sword  alarmed  his 
whole  family.  He  appealed  to  Byron  for  protection. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Byron  sent  an  officer 
with  a  file  of  men  to  arrest  the  delinquent.  He  was  a 
Russian  who  had  lately  arrived  and  enlisted  in  the 
artillery  brigade.  The  man  vowed  that  the  charge 
was  false ;  that  he  had  lodged  in  that  house  for  several 
days,  and  that  he  only  broke  the  door  open  because 
the  Greek  would  not  admit  him,  and  kept  him  outside 
in  the  rain.  He  moreover  complained  of  the  time  and 
manner  of  his  arrest,  and  sent  a  letter  to  Byron 
accusing  the  officer  who  had  arrested  him.  Byron's 
reply  was  as  follows  : 

'April  I,  1824. 

•Sir, 

*  I  have  the  honour  to  reply  to  your  letter  of  this 
day.  In  consequence  of  an  urgent  and,  to  all  appear- 
ances, a  well-founded  complaint,  made  to  me  yesterday 
evening,  I  gave  orders  to  Mr.  Hesketh  to  proceed  to 
your  quarters  with  the  soldiers  of  his  guard,  and  to 
remove  you  from  your  house  to  .ihe  Seraglio,  because 
the  owner  of  your  house  declared  himself  and  his 
family  to  be  in  immediate  danger  from  your  conduct ; 
and  added  that  that  was  not  the  first  time  that  you  had 
placed  them  in  similar  circumstances.  Neither  Mr. 
Hesketh  nor  myself  could  imagine  that  you  were  in 
bed,  as  we  had  been  assured  to  the  contrary ;  and 
certainly  such  a  situation  was  not  contemplated.  But 
Mr.  Hesketh  had  positive  orders  to  conduct  you  from 
your  quarters  to  those  of  the  artillery  brigade ;  at  the 


CARIASCACHI  CREATES  DISTURBANCE    159 

same  time  being  desired  to  use  no  violence;  nor  does 
it  appear  that  any  was  had  recourse  to.  This  measure 
was  adopted  because  your  landlord  assured  me,  when 
I  proposed  to  put  off  the  inquiry  until  the  next  day,  that 
he  could  not  return  to  his  house  without  a  guard  for 
his  protection,  and  that  he  had  left  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  family,  in  the  greatest  alarm ;  on  that 
account  putting  them  under  our  immediate  protection ; 
the  case  admitted  of  no  delay.  As  I  am  not  aware 
that  Mr.  Hesketh  exceeded  his  orders,  I  cannot  take 
any  measures  to  punish  him  ;  but  I  have  no  objection 
to  examine  minutely  into  his  conduct.  You  ought  to 
recollect  that  entering  into  the  auxiliary  Greek  Corps, 
now  under  my  orders,  at  your  own  sole  request  and 
positive  desire,  you  incurred  the  obligation  of  obeying 
the  laws  of  the  country,  as  well  as  those  of  the  service. 
*  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  etc., 

'N.  B.' 

It  is  doubtful  whether  any  other  commanding  officer 
would,  in  similar  circumstances,  have  taken  the  trouble 
to  write  such  a  letter  to  a  private  in  his  regiment.  We 
merely  allude  to  the  incident  in  order  to  show  that 
even  in  trivial  matters  Byron  performed  his  duty 
towards  those  under  his  command,  taking  especial 
interest  in  each  case,  so  that  breaches  of  discipline 
might  not  be  too  harshly  treated  by  his  subordinates. 

On  April  3  the  whole  town  of  Missolonghi  was 
thrown  into  a  panic  of  alarm.  A  rumour  quickly 
spread  that  a  body  of  troops  had  disembarked  at 
Chioneri,  a  village  on  the  southern  shore  of  the  city. 
At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  men,  belonging  to  the  chief  Cariascachi,  landed, 
and  demanded  reparation  for  an  injury  which  had  been 
inflicted  on  his  nephew  by  some  boatmen  belonging  to 
Missolonghi.  Meanwhile  the  man  who  wounded  the 
young  man  had  absconded  ;  and  the  soldiers,  unable  to 
wreak  their  vengeance  upon  them,  arrested  two  of  the 
Primates,  and   sent  them  to  Cariascachi  as  hostages. 


i6o     BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

They  then  seized  the  fort  at  Vasiladi,  a  small  mud 
island  commanding  the  flats,  which  on  the  sea  side 
afford  an  impenetrable  defence  to  the  town,  Carias- 
cachi  further  declared  that  he  would  neither  give  up 
the  Primates  nor  Vasiladi  until  the  men  who  had 
wounded  his  nephew  were  delivered  into  his  hands. 
On  the  same  day  seven  Turkish  vessels  anchored  off 
Vasiladi.  Cariascachi  had  long  been  suspected  of 
a  treasonable  correspondence  with  the  Turks,  and 
Mavrocordato  was  quick  to  perceive  that  his  conduct 
on  this  occasion,  coinciding  as  it  did  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  enemy,  was  part  of  a  conspiracy  against 
his  authority  in  Western  Greece.  He  expected  every 
moment  to  hear  that  the  Turks  had  taken  possession 
of  Vasiladi,  and  guessed  that  the  soldiers  sent  by 
Cariascachi,  ostensibly  to  avenge  a  private  injury,  had 
really  come  to  open  the  gates  to  the  Turks.  It  was  a 
critical  moment  indeed.  All  the  disposable  troops 
were  in  the  provinces ;  the  Suliotes  were  marching  to 
Arta,  and  some  of  them  had  already  accepted  service 
under  Cariascachi  himself 

Byron,  with  wonderful  self-command,  concealed  his 
indignation  at  such  evidence  of  treason,  and  urged 
Mavrocordato  to  dismiss  his  fears,  and  to  display  all 
possible  energy  in  order  to  defeat  Cariascachi's  designs. 
He  offered  his  own  services,  that  of  the  artillery 
brigade,  and  of  the  three  hundred  Suliotes  who  formed 
his  guard.  Gunboats  were  sent  to  Vasiladi  with  orders 
to  dislodge  the  rebels,  and  Byron  resolved  that  the 
suspected  treason  of  this  Greek  chieftain  should  be 
severely  punished.  The  batteries  of  Missolonghi  were 
immediately  secured  by  the  artillerymen,  and  several 
of  their  guns  were  pointed  towards  the  town,  so  as  to 
prevent  a  surprise. 


ALLEGED  TREASON  i6i 

At  the  approach  of  the  gunboats  the  rebels  pre- 
cipitately fled,  and,  perceiving  the  resolute  bearing 
assumed  by  Byron's  troops,  they  immediately  sur- 
rendered the  Primates,  and  humbly  asked  permission 
to  retire  unmolested.  This  was  of  course  granted, 
but  Cariascachi  was  subsequently  tried  by  court- 
martial,  and  found  guilty  of  holding  treasonable  com- 
munications with  the  enemy. 

According  to  Millingen,  who  was  at  Missolonghi  at 
that  time,  it  was  not  proved  against  Cariascachi  that  he 
had  ever  proposed  to  deliver  up  Vasiladi  and  Misso- 
longhi to  the  Turks ;  but  appearances  were  certainly 
against  him,  and  his  subsequent  flight  to  Agraffa 
seems  to  have  given  evidence  of  a  guilty  conscience. 
Byron  was  deeply  mortified  by  this  example  of  treason 
on  the  part  of  a  Greek  chieftain.  He  had  not  been 
prepared  to  meet  with  black-hearted  treachery,  or 
to  see  Greeks  conspiring  against  their  own  country, 
courting  the  chains  of  their  former  masters,  and  bar- 
gaining the  liberties  and  very  existence  of  their  own 
fellow-countrymen. 

'  Ignorant  at  first,'  says  Millingen,  '  how  far  the 
ramifications  of  this  conspiracy  might  extend,  he 
trembled  to  think  of  the  consequences.  Personal 
fear  never  entered  his  mind,  although  most  of  the 
Suliotes  who  composed  his  guard,  as  soon  as  they 
heard  that  their  compatriots  at  Anatolico  sided  with 
Cariascachi,  declared  openly  that  they  would  not  act 
against  their  countrymen.  The  hopes  that  Byron 
had  formed  for  the  future  of  Greece  were  for  a 
moment  obscured.  He  feared  lest  the  news  of  a 
civil  war  in  the  Peloponnesus,  and  of  a  conspiracy 
to  introduce  the  Turks  into  Western  Greece,  would, 
on  reaching  England,  ruin  the  Greek  credit,  and 
preclude  all  hope  of  obtaining  a  loan,  which  to 
him  appeared  indispensable  to  the  salvation  of  her 
liberty.' 

II 


i62  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

While  absorbed  by  the  gloomy  reflections  to  which 
this  incident  gave  rise,  a  spy  was  discovered  under 
Byron's  own  roof.  A  man  named  Constantine  Volpiotti, 
it  was  asserted,  had  had  several  conferences  with 
Cariascachi  at  Anatolico.  Letters  found  upon  him 
confirmed  the  worst  suspicions,  and  he  was  handed 
over  by  Byron's  orders  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the 
town  guard.  A  military  commission  subsequently 
examined  minutely  into  the  whole  affair.  It  appears 
that  the  incriminating  letters  found  in  Volpiotti's 
clothes  were  those  written  by  Mavrocordato  and  other 
patriots  to  Cariascachi,  reproaching  him  for  his 
treachery  and  connivance  with  the  enemy.  These 
Volpiotti  was  to  show  to  Omer  Pacha  as  certificates  to 
prove  how  faithful  Cariascachi  had  ever  been  to  his 
engagements  with  him. 

*  It  resulted,  from  the  examination  which  Volpiotti 
underwent,  that  he  had  been  charged  to  ask  Omer 
Pacha  for  a  Bouyourte,  appointing  Cariascachi  Capitano 
of  the  province  of  Agraffa.  Cariascachi  engaged  in 
return  to  co-operate  with  Vernakiotti  in  the  reduction 
of  Western  Greece,  and  to  draw  over  to  his  party 
several  of  the  chiefs  who  had  hitherto  most  faithfully 
adhered  to  the  Greek  Government.' 

Under  these  circumstances  it  was  not  wise,  even  if 
it  were  politic,  to  allow  Cariascachi  to  escape.  Byron 
felt  this  keenly,  and  foresaw  what  actually  happened. 
Cariascachi  was  no  sooner  clear  of  Anatolico  than  he 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  followers,  and,  assisted 
by  Andrea  Isco,  of  Macrinoro,  he  again  made  Agraffa 
and  its  adjoining  provinces  the  scene  of  his  depre- 
dations and  daily  sanguinary  encounters. 

*  At  no  time  in  his  life,'  says  Millingen,  '  did  Lord 
Byron  find  himself  in  circumstances  more  calculated 
to   render   him   unhappy.     The    cup    of    health    had 


BYRON  NERVOUS  AND  IRRITABLE     163 

dropped  from  his  lips,  and  constant  anxiety  and  suffer- 
ing operated  powerfully  on  his  mind,  already  a  prey 
to  melancholy  apprehensions,  and  disappointment, 
increased  by  disgust.  Continually  haunted  by  a  dread 
of  epilepsy  or  palsy,  he  fell  into  the  lowest  state  of 
hypochondriasis,  and  vented  his  sorrows  in  language 
which,  though  sometimes  sublime,  was  at  others  as 
peevish  and  capricious  as  that  of  an  unruly  and 
quarrelsome  child.' 

Gamba  tells  us  that  Byron,  after  the  events  above 
mentioned,  became  nervous  and  irritable.  He  had 
not  been  on  horseback  for  some  days  on  account  of  the 
weather,  but  on  April  9,  though  the  weather  was 
threatening,  he  determined  to  ride.  Three  miles  from 
the  town  he  and  Gamba  were  caught  in  a  heavy  down- 
pour of  rain,  and  they  returned  to  the  town  walls  wet 
through  and  in  a  violent  perspiration.     Gamba  says  : 

'  I  have  before  mentioned  that  it  was  our  practice  to 
dismount  at  the  walls,  and  return  to  our  house  in  a 
boat.  This  day,  however,  I  entreated  Byron  to  return 
home  on  horseback  the  whole  way,  as  it  would  be 
dangerous,  hot  as  he  was,  to  remain  exposed  to  the 
rain  in  a  boat  for  half  an  hour.  But  he  would  not 
listen  to  me,  and  said :  "  I  should  make  a  pretty  soldier 
indeed,  if  I  were  to  care  for  such  a  trifle."  Accordingly 
we  dismounted,  and  got  into  the  boat  as  usual.  Two 
hours  after  his  return  home,  he  was  seized  with  a 
shuddering :  he  complained  of  fever  and  rheumatic 
pains.  At  eight  in  the  evening  I  entered  his  rooms  ; 
he  was  lying  on  a  sofa,  restless  and  melancholy.' 

Byron  said  that  he  suffered  a  great  deal  of  pain, 
and  in  consequence  Dr.  Bruno  proposed  to  bleed  him. 
Bruno  seems  to  have  considered  the  lancet  as  a 
sovereign  remedy  for  all  the  ills  of  life. 

'  Have  you  no  other  remedy  than  bleeding  ?  There 
are  many  more  die  of  the  lancet  than  the  lance,'  said 
Byron,  as  he  declined  his  doctor's  proposal.     On  the 

II — 2 


i64     BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

following  day  he  was  perpetually  shuddering,  but  he 
got  up  at  his  usual  hour  and  transacted  business.  He 
did  not,  however,  leave  the  house.  On  April  1 1  Byron 
resolved  to  ride  out  an  hour  before  his  usual  time, 
fearing  that,  if  he  waited,  he  would  be  prevented  by 
the  rain. 

'  We  rode  for  a  long  time  in  the  olive  woods,'  says 
Gamba.  '  Lambro,  a  Suliote  officer,  accompanied  by 
a  numerous  suite,  attended  Byron,  who  spoke  much 
and  appeared  to  be  in  good  spirits. 

'The  next  day  he  kept  his  bed  with  an  attack  of 
rheumatic  fever.  It  was  thought  that  his  saddle  was 
wet ;  but  it  is  more  probable  that  he  was  really  suffer- 
ing from  his  previous  exposure  to  the  rain,  which 
perhaps  affected  him  the  more  readily  on  account  of 
his  over-abstemious  mode  of  life.' 

The  dates  to  which  Gamba  refers  in  the  statement 
we  have  quoted  were  April  ii  and  12.  It  is  important 
to  remark  that  in  Fletcher's  account,  published  in  the 
Westtninster  Review,  it  is  stated  that  the  last  time  Byron 
rode  out  was  on  April  10.  According  to  Parry,  who 
supports  Fletcher's  opinion,  Byron  was  very  unwell  on 
April  II,  and  did  not  leave  his  house.  He  had  shiver- 
ing fits,  and  complained  of  pains,  particularly  in  his 
bones  and  head. 

'  He  talked  a  great  deal,'  says  Parry,  *  and  I  thought 
in  rather  a  wandering  manner.  I  became  alarmed  for 
his  safety,  and  earnestly  begged  him  to  try  a  change  of 
air  and  scene  at  Zante.' 

Gamba,  in  his  journal,  says  that  Byron  rose  from 
his  bed  on  April  13,  but  did  not  leave  the  house.  The 
fever  appeared  to  be  diminished,  but  the  pains  in  his 
head  and  bones  continued.  He  was  melancholy  and 
irritable.  He  had  not  slept  since  his  attack,  and  could 
take  no  other  nourishment  than  a  little  broth  and  a 


LAST  ILLNESS  165 

spoonful  or  two  of  arrowroot.  On  the  14th  he  got  out 
of  bed  at  noon  ;  he  was  calmer.  The  fever  had  appar- 
ently diminished,  but  he  was  very  weak,  and  still 
complained  of  pains  in  his  head.  It  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  says  Gamba,  that  the  physicians 
dissuaded  him  from  going  out  riding,  which,  in  spite 
of  the  threatening  weather,  he  desired  to  do.  There 
seems  at  that  time  to  have  been  no  suspicion  of  danger, 
and  it  was  even  supposed  by  his  doctors  that  the 
malady  was  under  control.  Byron  himself  said  that 
he  was  rather  glad  of  his  fever,  as  it  might  cure  him 
of  his  tendency  to  epilepsy.  He  attended  to  his 
correspondence  as  usual.     Gamba  says  : 

•  I  think  it  was  on  this  day  that,  as  I  was  sitting 
near  him  on  his  sofa,  he  said  to  me,  "  I  was  afraid  I 
was  losing  my  memory,  and,  in  order  to  try,  I  attempted 
to  repeat  some  Latin  verses  with  the  English  transla- 
tion, which  I  have  not  tried  to  recollect  since  I  was  at 
school.  I  remembered  them  all  except  the  last  word 
of  one  of  the  hexameters.'" 

On  April  15  the  fever  was  still  upon  him,  says 
Gamba,  but  all  pain  had  ceased.  He  was  easier,  and 
expressed  a  wish  to  ride  out,  but  the  weather  would 
not  permit.  He  transacted  business,  and  received, 
among  others,  a  letter  from  the  Turkish  Governor  to 
whom  he  had  sent  the  prisoners  he  had  liberated. 
The  Turk  thanked  Byron  for  his  courtesy,  and  asked 
for  a  repetition  of  this  favour.  '  The  letter  pleased 
him  much,'  says  Gamba. 

According  to  Fletcher,  it  appears  that  both  on  that 
day  and  the  day  previous  Byron  had  a  suspicion  that 
his  complaint  was  not  understood  by  his  doctors. 

Parry  says  that  on  April  15  the  doctors  thought 
there  was  no  danger,  and  said  so,  openly.     He  paid 


i66  BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

Byron  a  visit,  and  remained  at  his  bedside  from  7  p.m. 
until  10  o'clock. 

'  Lord  Byron  spoke  of  death  with  great  composure,' 
says  Parry;  'and  though  he  did  not  think  that  his  end 
was  so  very  near,  there  was  something  about  him  so 
serious  and  so  firm,  so  resigned  and  composed,  so 
different  from  an3'thing  I  had  ever  before  seen  in  him, 
that  my  mind  misgave  me.' 

Byron  then  spoke  of  the  sadness  of  being  ill  in  such 
a  place  as  Missolonghi,  and  seemed  to  have  imagined 
the  possibility  of  a  reconciliation  with  his  wife. 

'  When  I  left  Italy,'  said  Byron,  '  I  had  time  on 
board  the  brig  to  give  full  scope  to  memory  and  reflec- 
tion. I  am  convinced  of  the  happiness  of  domestic 
life.  No  man  on  earth  respects  a  virtuous  woman 
more  than  I  do,  and  the  prospect  of  retirement  in 
England  with  my  wife  and  daughter  gives  me  an  idea 
of  happiness  I  have  never  before  experienced.  Retire- 
ment will  be  everything  for  me,  for  heretofore  my  life 
has  been  like  the  ocean  in  a  storm.' 

Byron  then  spoke  of  Tita  (and  Fletcher  also,  doubt- 
less, though  Parry  does  not  mention  that  honest  and 
faithful  servant),  and  said  that  Bruno  was  an  excellent 
young  man  and  very  skilful,  but  too  much  agitated. 
He  hoped  that  Parry  would  come  to  him  as  often  as 
possible,  as  he  was  jaded  to  death  by  the  worrying 
of  his  doctors,  and  the  evident  anxiety  of  all  those  who 
wished  him  well.  On  a  wretched  fever-stricken  swamp, 
in  a  house  barely  weather-tight,  in  a  miserable  room, 
far  from  all  those  whom  he  loved  on  earth,  lay  the 
'  pilgrim  of  eternity,'  his  life,  so  full  of  promise, 
slowly  flickering  out.  The  pestilent  sirocco  was 
blowing  a  hurricane,  and  the  rain  was  falling  with 
almost  tropical  violence.  Gamba  had  met  with  an 
accident  which  confined  him  to  his  quarters  in  another 


BYRON  DELIRIOUS  167 

part  of  the  town,  a  circumstance  which  deprived  Byron 
of  a  loyal  friend  in  the  hour  of  his  direst  need.  Under 
these  circumstances,  Parry  was  a  godsend  to  Byron, 
and  he  seems  to  have  done  everything  possible  to 
cheer  him  in  his  moments  of  depression. 

On  April  16  Byron  was  alarmingly  ill,  and,  according 
to  Parry,  almost  constantly  delirious.  He  spoke  alter- 
nately in  English  and  Italian,  and  his  thoughts 
wandered.  The  doctors  were  not  alarmed,  and  told 
Parry  that  Byron  would  certainly  recover.  According 
to  Millingen's  account.  Dr.  Bruno  called  him  in  for  a 
consultation  on  the  15th,  and  we  shall  see  what 
Millingen  thought  of  his  patient's  condition  when  we 
lay  his  narrative  before  the  reader. 

When  Parry  visited  Byron  on  the  morning  of 
the  17th,  he  was  at  times  delirious.  He  appeared 
to  be  much  worse  than  on  the  day  before.  The 
doctors  succeeded  in  bleeding  him  twice,  and  both 
times  he  fainted. 

'  His  debility  was  excessive.  He  complained  bitterly 
of  the  want  of  sleep,  as  delirious  patients  do  complain, 
in  a  wild,  rambling  manner.  He  said  he  had  not  slept 
for  more  than  a  week,  when,  in  fact,  he  had  repeatedly 
slept  at  short  intervals,  disturbedly  indeed,  but  still  it 
was  sleep.  He  had  now  ceased  to  think  or  talk  of 
death ;  he  had  probably  no  idea  that  death  was  no  near 
at  hand,  for  his  senses  were  in  such  a  state  that  they 
rarely  allowed  him  to  form  a  correct  idea  of  anything.' 

On  the  17th  Gamba  managed  to  get  to  Byron's  room, 
and  was  struck  by  the  change  in  his  appearance. 

'  He  was  very  calm,'  says  Gamba,  '  and  talked  to  me 
in  the  kindest  manner  about  my  having  sprained  my 
ankle.  In  a  hollow,  sepulchral  tone,  he  said  :  "  Take 
care  of  your  foot.  I  know  by  experience  how  painful 
it  must  be."  I  could  not  stay  near  his  bed :  a  flood  of 
tears  rushed  into  my  eyes,  and  I  was  obliged  to  with- 


i68  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

draw.     This  was  the  first  day  that  the  medical  men 
seemed  to  entertain  serious  apprehensions.' 

On  this  day  Gamba  heard  that  Dr.  Thomas,  of  Zante, 
had  been  sent  for.  It  is  unfortunate  that  this  was  not 
done  sooner ;  but  Byron  had  forbidden  Fletcher  to 
send  for  that  excellent  medical  man,  when  he  pro- 
posed it  two  days  previously.  During  the  night  of 
the  17th  Byron  became  delirious,  and  wandered  in  his 
speech ;  he  fancied  himself  at  the  head  of  his  Suliotes, 
assailing  the  walls  of  Lepanto — a  wish  that  had  lain 
very  close  to  his  heart  for  many  and  many  a  day.  It 
was  his  dream  of  a  soldier's  glory,  to  die  fighting, 
sword  in  hand.  On  the  morning  of  the  i8th  Drs.  Mil- 
lingen  and  Bruno  were  alarmed  by  symptoms  of  an 
inflammation  of  the  brain,  and  proposed  another  bleed- 
ing, to  which  Byron  consented,  but  soon  ordered  the 
vein  to  be  closed. 

'  At  noon,'  says  Gamba,  '  I  came  to  his  bedside.  He 
asked  me  if  there  were  any  letters  for  him.  There 
was  one  from  the  Archbishop  Ignatius  to  him,  which 
told  Byron  that  the  Sultan  had  proclaimed  him,  in  full 
divan,  an  enemy  of  the  Porte.  I  thought  it  best  not 
to  let  him  know  of  the  arrival  of  that  letter.  A  few 
hours  afterwards  other  letters  arrived  from  England 
from  his  most  intimate  friends,  full  of  good  news,  and 
most  consolatory  in  every  way,  particularly  one  from 
Mr.  Hobhouse,  and  another  from  Douglas  Kinnaird ; 
but  he  had  then  become  unconscious — it  was  too  late !' 

April  18,  1824,  was  Easter  Day,  a  holiday  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  Greece,  and  a  noisy 
one,  too.  It  is  the  day  on  which  the  Greeks  at  Misso- 
longhi  were  accustomed  to  discharge  their  firearms 
and  great  guns.  Prince  Mavrocordato  gave  orders 
that  Parry  should  march  his  artillery  brigade  and 
Suliotes  to  some  distance  from  the  town,  in  order 


CONSULTATION  AMONG  PHYSICIANS    169 

to  attract  the  populace  from  the  vicinity  of  Byron's 
house.  At  the  same  time  the  town  guard  patrolled 
the  streets,  and  informed  people  of  Byron's  danger, 
begging  them  to  make  as  little  noise  as  possible.  The 
plan  succeeded  admirably ;  Byron  was  not  disturbed, 
and  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  rose,  and, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  Tita,  went  into  the  next  room. 
When  seated,  he  told  Tita  to  bring  him  a  book, 
mentioning  it  by  name.  About  this  time  Dr.  Bruno 
entreated  him,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  be  again  bled. 

'  No,'  said  Byron  ;  '  if  my  hour  is  come,  I  shall  die 
whether  I  lose  my  blood  or  keep  it.' 

After  reading  a  few  minutes  he  became  faint,  and, 
leaning  on  Tita's  arm,  he  tottered  into  the  next  room 
and  returned  to  bed. 

At  half-past  three.  Dr.  Bruno  and  Dr.  Millingen, 
becoming  more  alarmed,  wished  to  call  in  two  other 
physicians,  a  Dr.  Freiber,  a  German,  and  a  Greek 
named  Luca  Vaya,  the  most  distinguished  of  his 
profession  in  the  town,  and  physician  to  Mavrocordato. 
Lord  Byron  at  first  refused  to  see  them ;  but  being 
told  that  Mavrocordato  advised  it,  he  said :  *  Very 
well,  let  them  come  ;  but  let  them  look  at  me  and  say 
nothing.'  They  promised  this,  and  were  admitted. 
When  about  him  and  feeling  his  pulse,  one  of  them 
wished  to  speak.  *  Recollect  your  promise,'  said 
Byron,  *  and  go  away.' 

In  order  to  form  some  idea  of  the  state  of  things 
while  Byron's  life  was  slowly  ebbing  away,  we  will 
quote  a  passage  from  Parry's  book,  which  was  pub- 
lished soon  after  the  poet's  death  : 

'  Dr.  Bruno  I  believe  to  be  a  very  good  young  man, 
but  he  was  certainly  inadequate  to  his  situation.  I  do 
not  allude  to  his  medical  knowledge,  of  which  I  cannot 


I70  BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

pretend  to  be  a  judge;  but  he  lacked  firmness,  and  was 
so  much  agitated  that  he  was  incapable  of  bringing 
whatever  knowledge  he  might  possess  into  use.  Tita 
was  kind  and  attentive,  and  by  far  the  most  teachable 
and  useful  of  all  the  persons  about  Lord  Byron.  As 
there  was  nobody  invested  with  any  authority  over 
his  household  after  he  fell  ill,  there  was  neither 
method,  order,  nor  quiet,  in  his  apartments.  A  clever, 
skilful  English  surgeon,  possessing  the  confidence  of 
his  patient,  would  have  put  all  this  in  train ;  but 
Dr.  Bruno  had  no  idea  of  doing  any  such  thing.  There 
was  also  a  want  of  many  comforts  which,  to  the  sick, 
may  be  called  necessaries,  and  there  was  a  dreadful 
confusion  of  tongues.  In  his  agitation  Dr.  Bruno's 
English,  and  he  spoke  but  imperfectly,  was  unintel- 
legible ;  Fletcher's  Italian  was  equally  bad.  I  speak 
nothing  but  English ;  Tita  then  spoke  nothing  but 
Italian  ;  and  the  ordinary  Greek  domestics  were  in- 
comprehensible to  us  all.  In  all  the  attendants  there 
was  the  officiousness  of  zeal ;  but,  owing  to  their 
ignorance  of  each  other's  language,  their  zeal  only 
added  to  the  confusion.  This  circumstance,  and  the 
absence  of  common  necessaries,  made  Lord  Byron's 
apartment  such  a  picture  of  distress,  and  even  anguish, 
during  the  two  or  three  last  days  of  his  life,  as  I  never 
before  beheld,  and  wish  never  again  to  witness.' 

At  four  o'clock  on  April  i8,  according  to  Gamba, 
Byron  seemed  to  be  aware  of  his  approaching  end. 
Dr.  Millingen,  Fletcher,  and  Tita,  were  at  his  bedside. 
Strange  though  it  may  seem  to  us  in  these  far-off  days, 
with  our  experience  of  medical  men,  Dr.  Millingen, 
unable  to  restrain  his  tears,  walked  out  of  the  room. 
Tita  also  wept  profusely,  and  would  have  retired  if 
Byron  had  not  held  his  hand.  Byron  looked  at  him 
steadily,  and  said,  half  smiling,  in  Italian :  '  Oh,  questa 
e  una  bella  scena.'  He  then  seemed  to  reflect  a 
moment,  and  exclaimed,  '  Call  Parry.' 

'  Almost  immediately  afterwards,'  says  Gamba,  *  a 
fit  of  delirium  ensued,  and  he  began  to  talk  wildly,  as 


'MY  SISTER— MY  CHILD'  171 

if  he  were  mounting  a  breach  in  an  assault.  He  called 
out,  half  in  English,  half  in  Italian :  "Forwards — forwards 
— courage — follow  my  example — don't  be  afraid  !" ' 

When  he  came  to  himself  Fletcher  was  with  him. 
He  then  knew  that  he  was  dying,  and  seemed  very 
anxious  to  make  his  servant  understand  his  wishes. 
He  was  very  considerate  about  his  servants,  and  said 
that  he  was  afraid  they  would  suffer  from  sitting  up 
so  long  in  attendance  upon  him.  Byron  said,  '  I  wish 
to  do  something  for  Tita  and  Luca.'  '  My  lord,'  said 
Fletcher,  *  for  God's  sake  never  mind  that  now,  but 
talk  of  something  of  more  importance.'  But  he 
returned  to  the  same  topic,  and,  taking  Fletcher  by 
the  hand,  continued  :  *  You  will  be  provided  for — and 
now  hear  my  last  wishes.' 

Fletcher  begged  that  he  might  bring  pen  and  paper 
to  take  down  his  words.  *  No,'  replied  Lord  Byron, 
'  there  is  no  time — mind  you  execute  my  orders.  Go 
to  my  sister — tell  her — go  to  Lady  Byron — you  will 

see  her,  and  say '      Here  his  voice  faltered,  and 

gradually  became  indistinct ;  but  still  he  continued 
muttering  something  in  a  very  earnest  manner  for 
nearly  twenty  minutes,  though  in  such  a  tone  that  only 
a  few  words  could  be  distinguished.  These  were  only 
names:  'Augusta,*  'Ada,'  '  Hobhouse,'  '  Kinnaird.' 
He  then  said  :  '  Now  I  have  told  you  all.' 

'  My  lord,'  replied  Fletcher,  '  I  have  not  understood 
a  word  your  lordship  has  been  saying.'  Byron  looked 
most  distressed  at  this,  and  said,  'Not  understand  me? 
What  a  pity!  Then  it  is  too  late — all  is  over.'  *I 
hope  not,'  answered  Fletcher ;  '  but  the  Lord's  will  be 
done.'  Byron  continued,  'Yes,  not  mine.'  He  then 
tried  to  utter  a  few  words,  of  which  none  were  intelli- 
gible   except,   '  My    sister — my   child.'     The    doctors 


172  BYRON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

began  to  concur  in  an  opinion  which  one  might  have 
thought  sufficiently  obvious  from  the  first,  namely, 
that  the  principal  danger  to  the  patient  v^as  his  extreme 
weakness,  and  now  agreed  to  administer  restoratives. 
Dr.  Bruno,  however,  thought  otherwise,  but  agreed  to 
administer  a  dose  of  claret,  bark,  and  opium,  and  to 
apply  blisters  to  the  soles  of  Byron's  feet.  He  took 
the  draught  readily,  but  for  some  time  refused  the 
blisters.  At  last  they  were  applied,  and  Byron  fell 
asleep. 

Gamba  says  :  *  He  awoke  in  half  an  hour.  I  wished 
to  go  to  him,  but  I  had  not  the  heart.  Parry  went ; 
Byron  knew  him,  and  squeezed  his  hand.' 

Parry  says : 

'  When  Lord  Byron  took  my  hand,  I  found  his  hands 
were  deadly  cold.  With  Tita's  assistance,  I  en- 
deavoured gently  to  create  a  little  warmth  in  them, 
and  I  also  loosened  the  bandage  which  was  tied  round 
his  head.  Till  this  was  done,  he  seemed  in  great  pain 
— clenched  his  hands  at  times,  and  gnashed  his  teeth. 
He  bore  the  loosening  of  the  band  passively;  and 
after  it  was  loosened,  he  shed  tears.  I  encouraged 
him  to  weep,  and  said :  "My  lord,  I  thank  God,  I  hope 
you  will  now  be  better ;  shed  as  many  tears  as  you 
can;  you  will  sleep  and  find  ease."  He  replied  faintly, 
"  Yes,  the  pain  is  gone  ;  I  shall  sleep  now."  He  took 
my  hand,  uttered  a  faint  "Good-night,"  and  dropped  to 
sleep.  My  heart  ached,  but  I  thought  then  his  suffer- 
ings were  over,  and  that  he  would  wake  no  more.  He 
did  wake  again,  however,  and  I  went  to  him ;  he  knew 
me,  though  scarcely.  He  was  less  distracted  than  I 
had  seen  him  for  some  time  before ;  there  was  the 
calmness  of  resignation,  but  there  was  also  the  stupor 
of  death.  He  tried  to  utter  his  wishes,  but  he  was 
not  able  to  do  so.  He  said  something  about  re- 
warding Tita,  and  uttered  several  incoherent  words. 
There  was  either  no  meaning  in  what  he  said,  or  it 
was  such  a  meaning  as  we  could  not  expect  at  that 
moment.     His  eyes  continued  open  only  a  short  time. 


THE  DEATH  OF  BYRON  173 

and  then,  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  i8th 
April,  he  sank  into  a  slumber,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  a 
stupor,  and  woke  and  knew  no  more.' 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  details  given  above 
were  written  by  a  man  who  asserts  that  he  was  present 
during  the  period  of  which  he  gives  an  account. 
Gamba,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not  present,  and  the 
details  which  he  gives  are  avowedly  gathered  from 
those  who  happened  to  be  in  the  room. 

*  From  those  about  him,'  says  Gamba,  '  I  collected 
that,  either  at  this  time  or  in  his  former  interval  of 
reason,  Byron  could  be  understood  to  say,  "  Poor 
Greece  !  Poor  town  !  My  poor  servants !"  Also, 
'  Why  was  I  not  aware  of  this  sooner  ?"  and,  "  My 
hour  is  come  !  I  do  not  care  for  death.  But  why  did 
I  not  go  home  before  I  came  here  ?"  At  another  time 
he  said :  "  There  are  things  which  make  the  world 
dear  to  me."' 

He  said  this  in  Italian,  and  Parry  may  of  course  not 
have  understood  him.  *  lo  lascio  qualche  cosa  di  caro 
nel  mondo.'  He  also  said  :  '  I  am  content  to  die.'  In 
speaking  of  Greece,  he  said :  *  I  have  given  her  my 
time,  my  means,  my  health,  and  now  I  give  her  my 
life  !     What  could  I  do  more  ?" 

Byron  remained  insensible,  immovable,  for  twenty- 
four  hours.  There  were  occasional  symptoms  of 
suffocation,  and  a  rattling  in  the  throat,  which  induced 
his  servants  occasionally  to  raise  his  head.  Gamba 
says : 

'  Means  were  taken  to  rouse  him  from  his  lethargy, 
but  in  vain.  A  great  many  leeches  were  applied  to  his 
temples,  and  the  blood  flowed  copiously  all  night.  It 
was  exactly  a  quarter  past  six  on  the  next  day,  the  19th 
April,  that  he  was  seen  to  open  his  eyes,  and  immediately 
close  them  again.  The  doctors  felt  his  pulse — he  was 
gone  1' 


CHAPTER  XIV 

It  matters  little  what  we  now  think  of  Byron  as  a 
man.  After  eighty-four  years,  his  personality  is  of 
less  public  interest  than  his  achievements,  while  our 
capacity  for  forming  an  adequate  judgment  of  his 
character  is  necessarily  dependent  on  second-hand 
evidence,  some  of  which  is  false,  and  much  tainted  by 
prejudice.  But  what  did  those  hard  men  of  action 
who  stood  at  his  side  in  those  terrible  days  in  Greece — 
Stanhope,  Parry,  Finlay,  Blaquiere,  Millingen,  Tre- 
lawny — what  did  they  think  of  Byron  ? 

Stanhope,  who  was  at  Salona,  wrote  to  Bowring  on 
April  30  : 

*A  courier  has  just  arrived  from  the  chief  Scalza. 
Alas !  all  our  fears  are  realized.  The  soul  of  Byron 
has  taken  its  last  flight.  England  has  lost  her  brightest 
genius — Greece  her  noblest  friend.  To  console  them  for 
the  loss,  he  has  left  behind  the  emanationsof  his  splendid 
mind.  If  Byron  had  faults,  he  had  redeeming  virtues 
too — he  sacrificed  his  comfort,  fortune,  health,  and  life, 
to  the  cause  of  an  oppressed  nation.  Honoured  be 
his  memory  !  Had  I  the  disposal  of  his  ashes,  I  would 
place  them  in  the  Temple  of  Theseus,  or  in  the  Par- 
thenon at  Athens.' 

Three  days  later  Stanhope  wrote  again  to  Bowring : 

'  Byron  would  not  refuse  to  an  entire  people  the 
benefit  of  his  virtues  ;  he  condescended  to  display  them 
wherever  Humanity  beckoned  him  to  her  aid.  This 
single  object  of  devotion  to  the  well-being  of  a  pfeople 

174 


PANEGYRICS  i75 

has  raised  him  to  a  distinguished  pitch  of  glory  among 
characters  dignified  b}'-  their  virtues,  of  which  the 
illustrious  British  nation  can  make  so  ample  a  display, 
and  of  whom  Greece  hopes  to  behold  many  co-oper- 
ating in  her  regeneration.  Having  here  paid  the  tribute 
of  admiration  due  to  the  virtues  of  Lord  Byron,  eternal 
may  his  memory  remain  with  the  world  !' 

Parry  says  : 

*  Thus  died  the  truest  and  greatest  poet  England 
has  lately  given  birth  to,  the  warmest-hearted  of  her 
philanthropists,  the  least  selfish  of  her  patriots.  That 
the  disappointment  of  his  ardent  hopes  w^as  the  primary 
cause  of  his  illness  and  death  cannot,  I  think,  be 
doubted.  The  weight  of  that  disappointment  was 
augmented  by  the  numerous  difficulties  he  met  with. 
He  was  fretted  and  annoyed,  but  he  disdained  to 
complain.  As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  Lord  Byron 
was  dead,  sorrow  and  grief  were  generally  felt  in 
Greece.  They  spread  from  his  own  apartments  over 
the  town  of  Missolonghi,  through  the  whole  of  Greece, 
and  over  every  part  of  civilized  Europe.  No  persons, 
perhaps,  after  his  domestics  and  personal  friends,  felt 
his  loss  more  acutely  than  the  poor  citizens  of  Misso- 
longhi. His  residence  among  them  procured  them 
food,  and  insured  their  protection.  But  for  him  they 
would  have  been  first  plundered  by  the  unpaid  Suliotes, 
and  then  left  a  prey  to  the  Turks.  Not  only  were  the 
Primates  and  Mavrocordato  affected  on  the  occasion, 
but  the  poorest  citizen  felt  that  he  had  lost  a  friend. 
Mavrocordato  spoke  of  Lord  Byron  as  the  best  friend 
of  Greece,  and  said  that  his  conduct  was  admirable. 
"  Nobody  knows,"  he  was  heard  to  say,  "  except  perhaps 
myself,  the  loss  Greece  has  suffered.  Her  safety  even 
depended  on  his  life.  His  presence  at  Missolonghi 
has  checked  intrigues  which  will  now  have  uncon- 
trolled sway.  By  his  aid  alone  have  I  been  able  to 
preserve  this  city ;  and  now  I  know  that  every  assist- 
ance I  derived  from  and  through  him  will  be  with- 
drawn." 

'At  other  cities  and  places  of  Greece — at  Salona, 
where  the  Congress  had  just  assembled  ;  at  Athens — 
the   grief   was    equally   sincere.      Lord    Byron    was 


176     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

mourned  as  the  best  benefactor  to  Greece.  Orations 
were  pronounced  by  the  priests,  and  the  same  honours 
were  paid  to  his  memory  as  to  the  memory  of  one  of 
their  own  revered  chiefs.' 

After  Byron's  death  Finlay  wrote  these  words : 

'  Lord  Byron's  death  has  shed  a  lustre  on  both  his 
writings  and  his  actions ;  they  are  in  accordance.  His 
life  was  sacrificed  in  the  cause  for  which  he  had  early 
written,  and  which  he  constantly  supported.  His 
merit  would  not  have  been  greater  had  he  breathed 
his  last  on  the  isthmus  of  Corinth  at  the  conclusion  of 
a  baffled  siege.  Yet  such  a  death  would  certainly  have 
been  more  fortunate;  for  it  would  have  recalled  his 
name  oftener  to  the  memory,  at  least,  of  those  who 
have  no  souls.  Time  will  put  an  end  to  all  undue 
admiration  and  malicious  cant,  and  the  world  will 
ultimately  form  an  estimate  of  Byron's  character  from 
his  writings  and  his  public  conduct.  It  will  then  be 
possible  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  greatness  of  his 
genius  and  his  mind,  and  the  real  extent  of  his  faults. 
The  ridiculous  calumnies  which  have  found  a  moment's 
credit  will  then  be  utterly  forgotten.  Nor  will  it  be 
from  the  cursory  memoirs  or  anecdotes  of  his  con- 
temporaries that  his  character  can  be  drawn.' 

Blaquiere,  who  had  brought  out  the  first  instalment 
of  the  Greek  loan,  arrived  at  Zante  on  April  24,  and 
was  there  informed  of  Byron's  death.  He  had  been 
among  the  first  to  urge  Byron  to  hasten  his  projected 
visit  to  Greece,  and  had  held  a  long  conversation  with 
him  at  Genoa  on  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  Morea. 
The  following  extract  is  taken  from  a  letter  which  he 
wrote  to  a  friend  in  Enarland  : 


^^b' 


'  Thus  terminated  the  life  of  Lord  Byron,  at  a  moment 
the  most  glorious  for  his  own  fame,  but  the  most 
unfortunate  for  Greece ;  since  there  is  no  doubt  but, 
had  he  lived,  many  calamities  would  have  been  avoided, 
while  his  personal  credit  and  guarantee  would  have 
prevented  the  ruinous  delay  which  has  taken  place 


CONSTERNATION  AT  MISSOLONGHI     177 

with  regard  to  transferring  the  loan.  In  thus  devoting 
his  hfe  and  fortune  to  the  cause  of  religion  and  humanity, 
when  he  might  have  continued  to  enjoy  the  enthusiastic 
praises  of  his  contemporaries,  he  has  raised  the  best 
monument  to  his  own  fame,  and  has  furnished  the 
most  conclusive  reply  to  calumny  and  detraction. 
When  all  he  had  done,  and  was  about  to  do  for  the 
cause,  is  considered,  no  wonder  that  Lord  Byron's 
death  should  have  produced  such  an  effect.  It  was, 
in  fact,  regarded  not  only  as  a  national  calamity,  but 
as  an  irreparable  loss  to  every  individual  in  the  town 
of  Missolonghi,  and  the  English  volunteers  state  that 
hundreds  of  the  Greeks  were  seen  to  shed  tears  when 
the  event  was  announced. 

'  With  respect  to  Prince  Mavrocordato,  to  whom 
Lord  Byron  had  rendered  the  most  important  services, 
both  as  a  personal  friend  and  in  his  capacity  of  Governor- 
General  of  Western  Greece,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say 
that  he  could  not  have  received  a  severer  blow.  When 
I  saw  Lord  Byron  at  Genoa  last  year,  I  well  remember 
with  what  enthusiasm  he  spoke  of  his  intended  visit, 
and  how  much  he  regretted  not  having  joined  the 
standard  of  freedom  long  before.  When  once  in 
Greece,  he  espoused  her  most  sacred  cause  with  zeal. 
Up  to  the  time  of  his  fatal  illness  he  had  not  advanced 
less  than  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
but  he  intended  to  devote  the  whole  of  his  private 
income  to  the  service  of  the  confederation.' 

Millingen  says : 

*  The  most  dreadful  public  calamity  could  not  have 
spread  more  general  consternation,  or  more  profound 
and  sincere  grief,  than  the  unexpected  news  of  Lord 
Byron's  death.  During  the  few  months  he  had  lived 
among  the  people  of  Missolonghi,  he  had  given  so 
many  proofs  of  the  sincerity  and  extent  of  his  zeal  for 
the  advancement  of  their  best  interests.  He  had,  with 
so  much  generosity,  sacrificed  considerable  sums  to 
that  purpose ;  he  had  relieved  the  distress  of  so  many 
unfortunate  persons,  that  everyone  looked  upon  him  as 
a  father  and  public  benefactor.  These  titles  were  not, 
as  they  mostly  are,  the  incense  of  adulation,  but  the 
spontaneous  tribute  of  overflowing  gratitude.    He  had 

12 


178     BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

succeeded  in  inspiring  the  soldiers  with  the  brightest 
and  most  sanguine  expectations.  Full  of  confidence 
in  a  chief  they  loved,  they  would  have  followed  him 
in  the  boldest  enterprises.  To-day  they  must  follow 
the  corpse  of  him  whom  they  received  but  yesterday 
with  the  liveliest  acclamations.' 

Trelawny,  who  arrived  at  Missolonghi  four  days 
after  Byron's  death,  thus  writes  to  Stanhope  at  Salona  : 

'  Lord  Byron  is  dead.  With  all  his  faults,  I  loved 
him  truly ;  he  is  connected  with  every  event  of  the 
most  interesting  years  of  my  wandering  life.  His 
everyday  companion,  we  lived  in  ships,  boats,  and 
in  houses,  together;  we  had  no  secrets,  no  reserve, 
and  though  we  often  differed  in  opinion,  we  never 
quarrelled.  It  gave  me  pain  witnessing  his  frailties  ; 
he  only  wanted  a  little  excitement  to  awaken  and  put 
forth  virtues  that  redeemed  them  all.  .  .  .  This  is  no 
private  grief;  the  world  has  lost  its  greatest  man,  I 
my  best  friend.' 

On  April  28  Trelawny  wrote  again  to  Stanhope : 

'  I  think  Byron's  name  was  the  great  means  of  getting 
the  loan.  A  Mr.  Marshall  with  ^^'8,000  per  annum  was 
as  far  as  Corfu,  and  turned  back  on  hearing  of  Byron's 
death.  .  .  .  The  greatest  man  in  the  world  has 
resigned  his  mortality  in  favour  of  this  sublime  cause ; 
for  had  he  remained  in  Italy  he  had  lived !' 

Such  was  Trelawny's  opinion  of  Byron  in  April, 
1824.  From  all  that  the  present  writer  has  been  able 
to  gather,  both  from  Trelawny's  lips  and  from  his 
•  Recollections,'  published  thirty-four  years  after 
Byron's  death,  such  was  his  real  opinion  to  the  last. 

Mrs.  Julian  Marshall,  having  called  attention*  to  the 
fact  that,  four  months  after  Byron's  death,  Trelawny, 
in  a  letter  to  Mary  Shelley,  spoke  in  contemptuous 

*  '  Life  and  Letters  of  Mary  Wollstonecraft  Shelley,'  edited  by 
Mrs.  Julian  Marshall. 


TRELAWNY  AND  MAVROCORDATO     179 

terms  of  Byron,  we  feel  bound  to  refer  to  it  here.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  letter  in  question  was  of 
a  strictly  private  nature.  In  making  it  public,  Mrs. 
Marshall  unintentionally  dealt  a  severe  blow  at  Tre- 
lawny,  which,  in  justice  to  his  memory,  we  will 
endeavour  to  soften. 

To  anyone  acquainted  with  the  character  of  this 
remarkable  man — the  fearless  soul  of  honour — such  a 
volte-face  seems  absurd,  except  on  the  hypothesis  that 
something  had  transpired,  since  Byron's  death,  suffi- 
cient to  destroy  a  long-tried  friendship.  The  fact  is 
that  during  those  four  months  the  whole  situation  had 
changed.  Trelawny,  no  longer  a  free  -  lance,  was 
practically  a  prisoner  in  a  cave  on  Mount  Parnassus. 
His  friend  Odysseus  went  about  in  daily  fear  of 
assassination,  and  was  persecuted  by  the  active 
hostility  of  a  Government  which  both  Odysseus  and 
Trelawny  thought  was  inspired  by  Mavrocordato. 
Trelawny's  opinion  of  the  latter,  whose  cause  Byron 
had  espoused,  maybe  gathered  from  his  letter  to  Mary 
Shelley : 

*  A  word  as  to  your  wooden  god  Mavrocordato.  He 
is  a  miserable  Jew,  and  I  hope  ere  long  to  see  his 
head  removed  from  his  worthless  and  heartless  body. 
He  is  a  mere  shuffling  soldier,  an  aristocratic  brute — 
wants  Kings  and  Congresses — a  poor,  weak,  shuffling, 
intriguing,  cowardly  fellow  ;  so  no  more  about  him.' 

It  will  be  seen  that  Trelawny,  when  fairly  warmed 
up,  did  not  mince  his  words.  It  is  indeed  a  pity  that 
these  heated  adjectives  were  served  up  to  the  public. 
It  was  only  because  Byron  had  consistently  supported 
Mavrocordato  as  the  Governor  of  Western  Greece  that 
Trelawny,  in  his  indiscriminative  manner,  assailed  his 
memory.     But  his  letter  was  evidently  only  the  peevish 

12 — 2 


i8o  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

outburst  of  an  angry  man,  and  closed  with  these 
words : 

'  I  would  do  much  to  see  and  talk  to  you,  but,  as  I 
am  now  too  much  irritated  to  disclose  the  real  state  of 
things,  I  will  not  mislead  you  by  false  statements.' 

The  state  of  things  at  the  time  may  be  gathered  from 
a  letter  addressed  to  Colonel  Stanhope  by  Captain 
Humphreys,  who  was  then  serving  the  Greek  cause  as 
a  volunteer. 

'  I  write,  not  from  a  land  of  liberty  and  freedom,  but 
from  a  country  at  present  a  prey  to  anarchy  and  con- 
fusion, with  the  dismal  prospect  of  future  tyranny,  .  .  . 
Odysseus  is  at  his  fortress  of  Parnassus ;  bribery, 
assassination,  and  every  provocation,  have  been  em- 
ployed against  him.  An  English  officer.  Captain 
Fenton,  who  is  with  Odysseus,  as  well  as  Trelawny, 
has  been  twice  attempted  to  be  assassinated,  after 
refusing  to  accept  a  bribe  of  10,000  dollars,  to  deliver 
up  the  fortress.  Mavrocordatd's  agents  principally  in- 
fluence the  Government ;  the  executive  body  remains 
stationary ;  and  part  of  the  loan  has  been  employed  to 
secure  their  re-election! 

There  is  enough  in  this  letter  to  account  for  Tre- 
lawny's  irritation ;  but  he  was  entirely  wrong  in 
thinking  that  Byron  was  in  any  sense  subservient  to 
the  man  whom  he  then  regarded  as  the  real  author  of 
his  misfortunes.  Trelawny  had  made  the  mistake  of 
joining  the  faction  of  Odysseus,  but  Byron  was  never 
connected  with  any  faction  whatever.  Odysseus 
seems  to  have  persuaded  Trelawny  that  Byron  had 
become  a  mere  tool  of  Mavrocordato,  and  it  was  under 
that  erroneous  impression  that  his  letter  to  Mary 
Shelley  was  written. 

If,  as  Mrs.  Julian  Marshall  says,  *  Trelawny's  mercu- 
rial and  impulsive  temperament — ever  in  extremes — 
was  liable  to  the  most  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling,'  it 


i 


PRINCE  MAVROCORDATO  i8i 

would  surely  have  been  wiser,  and  certainly  fairer,  to 
have  withheld  the  publication  of  opinions  which  were 
not  intended  for  publication,  and  which  he  had,  in  later 
life,  openly  disavowed.  In  his  estimate  of  the  character 
and  policy  of  Mavrocordato,  he  was  also  mistaken.  It 
would  be  quite  easy  to  show  that  Mavrocordato  was 
perhaps  the  only  man  of  his  nation,  then  in  Greece, 
who  united  in  an  eminent  degree  unadulterated 
patriotism  with  the  talents  which  form  a  statesman. 
Millingen,  who  knew  him  well,  tells  us  that  it  was 
fortunate  for  Greece  that  Mavrocordato  was  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  character  of  those  with  whom  he 
had  to  deal.  That  knowledge  preserved  Missolonghi, 
until  the  arrival  of  reinforcements  enabled  it  to  hold 
out  against  Omer  Pacha's  assault.  Mavrocordato,  he 
tells  us,  never  pursued  any  other  object  than  the  good 
of  his  country,  and  never  sacrificed  her  interests  to 
his  own  ambition.  He  alone  was  capable  of  organizing 
a  civil  administration  ;  in  fact,  he  created  a  stable  form 
of  government  from  the  ashes  of  chaos.  So  far  from 
his  having  been  a  coward,  as  Trelawny  asserts, 
Mavrocordato,  in  his  intense  desire  to  serve  his  coun- 
try, often  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  troops  and 
fought  bravely.  Having  held  the  position  of  Governor- 
General  of  Western  Greece  in  very  trying  times,  he 
relinquished  his  command  in  1825,  in  compliance  with 
the  orders  of  his  Government,  which  recalled  him  to 
Anapli,  there  to  fill  the  post  of  Secretary  of  State.  He 
sacrificed  the  whole  of  his  fortune  in  the  service  of 
Greece.  According  to  Millingen,  he  was  occasionally 
so  distressed  for  money  as  to  be  unable  to  provide  for 
his  daily  expenses. 

Enough   has   been   said   to   show  that    Trelawny's 
abuse  of  Byron  must  not  be  taken  too  seriously,  and 


i82  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

that  his  opinion  of  Mavrocordato  was  not  endorsed 
by  those  whose  opportunities  for  judging  the  Prince's 
conduct  were  far  greater  than  Trelawny's. 

Let  us  dismiss  from  our  minds  the  recollection  of 
hasty  words  written  in  anger^  and  let  us  remember 
those  truer  and  deeper  sentiments  which  Trelawny 
expressed  in  his  old  age : 

*  I  withdrew  the  black  pall  and  the  white  shroud, 
and  beheld  the  body  of  the  Pilgrim — more  beautiful 
in  death  than  in  life.  The  contraction  of  the  muscles 
and  skin  had  effaced  every  line  that  Time  or  Passion 
had  ever  traced  upon  it.  Few  marble  busts  would 
have  matched  its  stainless  white,  the  harmony  of  its 
proportions,  and  perfect  finish.  And  yet  he  had  been 
dissatisfied  with  that  body,  and  longed  to  cast  its 
slough  !  He  was  jealous  of  the  genius  of  Shake- 
speare— that  might  well  be — but  where  had  he  seen 
the  face  or  the  form  worthy  to  excite  his  envy  ?' 


CHAPTER  XV 

The  news  of  Byron's  death  spread  like  wildfire  through 
the  streets  and  bazaars  of  Missolonghi.  The  whole 
city  seemed  stunned  by  the  unexpected  blow.  Byron's 
illness  had  been  known,  but  no  one  dreamed  that  it 
would  end  so  fatally.  As  Gamba  has  well  said  :  *He 
died  in  a  strange  land,  and  amongst  strangers  ;  but 
more  loved,  more  sincerely  wept,  he  could  never  have 
been  wherever  he  had  breathed  his  last.' 

On  the  day  of  Byron's  death,  Ma^rocordato  issued 
the  following  proclamation,  which  forms  a  real  and 
enduring  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  who,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  died  in  a  great  cause  : 

Provisional  Government  of  Western  Greece. 

The  present  day  of  festivity  and  rejoicing  is  turned 
into  one  of  sorrow  and  mourning. 

The  Lord  Noel  Byron  departed  this  life  at  eleven 
o'clock  last  night,  after  an  illness  of  ten  days,  his 
death  being  caused  by  an  inflammatory  fever.  Such 
was  the  effect  of  his  lordship's  illness  on  the  public 
mind,  that  all  classes  had  forgotten  their  usual  recrea- 
tions of  Easter,  even  before  the  afflicting  end  was 
apprehended. 

The  loss  of  this  illustrious  individual  is  undoubtedly 
to  be  deplored  by  all  Greece ;  but  it  must  be  more 
especially  a  subject  of  lamentation  at  Missolonghi, 
where  his  generosity  has  been  so  conspicuously  dis- 
played, and  of  which  he  had  even  become  a  citizen, 
with  the  ulterior  determination  of  participating  in  all 
the  dangers  of  the  war. 

183 


i84     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Everybody  is  acquainted  with  the  beneficent  acts  of 
his  lordship,  and  none  can  cease  to  hail  his  name  as 
that  of  a  real  benefactor. 

Until,  therefore,  the  final  determination  of  the 
National  Government  be  known,  and  by  virtue  of  the 
powers  with  which  it  has  been  pleased  to  invest  me, 
I  hereby  decree  : 

I  St.  To-morrow  morning  at  daylight,  37  minute- 
guns  shall  be  fired  from  the  grand  battery,  being  the 
number  which  corresponds  with  the  age  of  the  illus- 
trious deceased. 

2nd.  All  the  public  offices,  even  to  the  tribunals, 
are  to  remain  closed  for  three  successive  days. 

3rd.  All  the  shops,  except  those  in  which  provisions 
or  medicines  are  sold,  will  also  be  shut ;  and  it  is 
strictly  enjoined,  that  every  species  of  public  amuse- 
ment and  other  demonstrations  of  festivity  at  Easter 
may  be  suspended. 

4th.  A  general  mourning  will  be  observed  for 
twenty-one  days. 

5th.  Prayers  and  a  funeral  service  are  to  be  offered 
up  in  all  the  churches. 

{Signed)    A.  Mavrocordato. 
GiORGius  Praidis, 

Secretary. 

Given  at  Missolonghi, 

this  19th  day  of  April,  1824. 

At  sunrise,  on  the  day  following  Byron's  death, 
thirty-seven  minute-guns  were  fired  from  the  prin- 
cipal battery;  and  one  of  the  batteries  belonging  to 
the  corps  immediately  under  his  orders  fired  a  gun 
every  half-hour  during  the  day.  We  take  the  follow- 
ing from  Gamba's  journal : 

^  April  21. — For  the  remainder  of  this  day  and  the 
next,  a  silence,  like  that  of  the  grave,  prevailed  over 
the  city.  We  had  intended  to  perform  the  funeral 
ceremony  on  the  21st,  but  the  continued  rain  pre- 
vented us.  On  the  22nd,  however,  we  acquitted  our- 
selves of  that  sad  duty,  so  far  as  our  humble  means 
would  permit.  In  the  midst  of  his  own  brigade,  of  the 
Government  troops,  and  of  the  whole  population,  on 


A  FUNERAL  ORATION  185 

the  shoulders  of  his  own  officers,  the  most  precious 
portion  of  his  honoured  remains  was  carried  to  the 
church,  where  He  the  bodies  of  Marco  Bozzari  and  of 
General  Normann.  There  we  laid  them  down.  The 
coffin  was  a  rude,  ill-constructed  chest  of  wood  ;  a 
black  mantle  served  for  a  pall ;  and  over  it  we  placed 
a  helmet  and  sword,  with  a  crown  of  laurels.  No 
funeral  pomp  could  have  left  the  impression,  nor 
spoken  the  feelings,  of  this  simple  ceremony.  The 
wretchedness  and  desolation  of  the  place  itself;  the 
wild,  half-civilized  warriors  around  us ;  their  deep, 
unaffected  grief;  the  fond  recollections  and  disap- 
pointed hopes ;  the  anxieties  and  sad  presentiments 
depicted  on  every  countenance,  contributed  to  form  a 
scene  more  moving,  more  truly  affecting,  than  perhaps 
was  ever  before  witnessed  round  the  coffin  of  a  great 
man.' 

Spiridion  Tricoupi,  a  son  of  one  of  the  Primates  of 
Missolonghi,  pronounced  the  funeral  oration  in  the 
following  words,  translated  from  the  modern  Greek  by 
an  inhabitant  of  Missolonghi : 

*  Unlooked-for  event !  Deplorable  misfortune  !  But 
a  short  time  has  elapsed  since  the  people  of  this  deeply 
suffering  country  welcomed,  with  unfeigned  joy  and 
open  arms,  this  celebrated  individual  to  their  bosoms. 
To-day,  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  despair,  they 
bathe  his  funeral  couch  with  tears  of  bitterness,  and 
mourn  over  it  with  inconsolable  affliction.  On  Easter 
Sunday,  the  happy  salutation  of  the  day,  "  Christ  is 
risen,"  remained  but  half  spoken  on  the  lips  of  every 
Greek  ;  and  as  they  met,  before  even  congratulating 
one  another  on  the  return  of  that  joyous  day,  the 
universal  question  was,  "  How  is  Lord  Byron  ?" 
Thousands  assembled  in  the  spacious  plain  outside 
the  city,  to  commemorate  the  sacred  day,  appeared 
as  if  they  had  assembled  for  the  sole  purpose  of  implor- 
ing the  Saviour  of  the  world  to  restore  to  health  him 
who  was  a  partaker  with  us  in  our  present  struggle 
for  the  deliverance  of  our  native  land.  And  how  is  it 
possible  that  any  heart  should  remain  unmoved,  any 
lip  closed,  upon   the   present    occasion  ?    Was   ever 


i86  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

Greece  in  greater  want  of  assistance  than  when  Lord 
Byron,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  crossed  over  to  Misso- 
longhi  ?  Then,  and  ever  since  he  has  been  with  us, 
his  liberal  hand  has  been  opened  to  our  necessities — 
necessities  which  our  own  poverty  would  have  other- 
wise rendered  irremediable.  How  many  and  much 
greater  benefits  did  we  not  expect  from  him  !  And 
to-day,  alas  !  to-day,  the  unrelenting  grave  closes  over 
him  and  all  our  hopes. 

*  Residing  out  of  Greece,  and  enjoying  all  the 
pleasures  and  luxuries  of  Europe,  he  might  have 
contributed  materially  to  the  success  of  our  cause 
without  coming  personally  amongst  us ;  and  this 
would  have  been  sufficient  for  us,  for  the  well-proved 
ability  and  profound  judgment  of  our  Governor,  the 
President  of  the  Senate,  would  have  insured  our 
safety  with  the  means  so  supplied.  But  if  this  was 
sufficient  for  us,  it  was  not  so  for  Lord  Byron. 
Destined  by  Nature  to  uphold  the  rights  of  man 
whenever  he  saw  them  trampled  upon  ;  born  in  a  free 
and  enlightened  country  ;  early  taught,  by  reading  the 
works  of  our  ancestors,  which  teach  all  who  can  read 
them,  not  only  what  man  is,  but  what  he  ought  to 
be,  and  what  he  may  be,  he  saw  the  persecuted  and 
enslaved  Greek  determined  to  break  the  heavy  chains 
with  which  he  was  bound,  and  to  convert  the  iron  into 
sharp-edged  swords,  that  he  might  regain  by  force 
what  force  had  torn  from  him.  He  came  to  share  our 
sufferings ;  assisting  us,  not  only  with  his  wealth,  of 
which  he  was  profuse ;  not  only  with  his  judgment, 
of  which  he  has  given  us  so  many  salutary  examples ; 
but  with  his  sword,  which  he  was  preparing  to  un- 
sheath  against  our  barbarous  and  tyrannical  oppressors. 
He  came — according  to  the  testimony  of  those  who 
were  intimate  with  him — with  a  determination  to  die 
in  Greece  and  for  Greece.  How,  therefore,  can  we  do 
otherwise  than  lament  with  deep  sorrow  the  loss  of 
such  a  man  !  How  can  we  do  otherwise  than  bewail 
it  as  the  loss  of  the  whole  Greek  nation !  Thus  far, 
my  friends,  you  have  seen  him  liberal,  generous, 
courageous,  a  true  Philhellenist ;  and  you  have  seen 
him  as  your  benefactor.  This  is  indeed  a  sufficient 
cause  for  your  tears,  but  it  is  not  sufficient  for  his 
honour.     It  is  not  sufficient  for  the  greatness  of  the 


A  FUNERAL  ORATION  187 

undertaking  in  which  he  had  engaged.  He,  whose 
death  we  are  now  so  deeply  deploring,  was  a  man 
who,  in  one  great  branch  of  literature,  gave  his  name 
to  the  age  in  which  we  live  :  the  vastness  of  his  genius 
and  the  richness  of  his  fancy  did  not  permit  him  to 
follow  the  splendid  though  beaten  track  of  the  literary 
fame  of  the  ancients ;  he  chose  a  new  road — a  road 
which  ancient  prejudice  had  endeavoured,  and  was 
still  endeavouring,  to  shut  against  the  learned  of 
Europe  :  but  as  long  as  his  writings  live,  and  they 
must  live  as  long  as  the  world  exists,  this  road  will 
remain  always  open ;  for  it  is,  as  well  as  the  other,  a 
sure  road  to  true  knowledge.  I  will  not  detain  you  at 
the  present  time  by  expressing  all  the  respect  and 
enthusiasm  with  which  the  perusal  of  his  writings  has 
always  inspired  me,  and  which,  indeed,  I  feel  much 
more  powerfully  now  than  at  any  other  period.  The 
learned  men  of  all  Europe  celebrate  him,  and  have 
celebrated  him ;  and  all  ages  will  celebrate  the  poet  of 
our  age,  for  he  was  born  for  all  Europe  and  for  all  ages. 
'One  consideration  occurs  to  me,  as  striking  and 
true  as  it  is  applicable  to  the  present  state  of  our 
country :  listen  to  it,  my  friends,  with  attention,  that 
you  may  make  it  your  own,  and  that  it  may  become 
a  generally  acknowledged  truth.  There  have  been 
many  great  and  splendid  nations  in  the  world,  but 
few  have  been  the  epochs  of  their  true  glory  :  one 
phenomenon,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  is  wanting  in 
the  history  of  these  nations,  and  one  the  possibility 
of  the  appearance  of  which  the  all-considering  mind  of 
the  philosopher  has  much  doubted.  Almost  all  the 
nations  of  the  world  have  fallen  from  the  hands  of 
one  master  into  those  of  another ;  some  have  been 
benefited,  others  have  been  injured  by  the  change; 
but  the  eye  of  the  historian  has  not  yet  seen  a  nation 
enslaved  by  barbarians,  and  more  particularly  by  bar- 
barians rooted  for  ages  in  their  soil — has  not  yet  seen, 
I  say,  such  a  people  throw  off  their  slavery  unassisted 
and  alone.  This  is  the  phenomenon ;  and  now,  for  the 
first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world,  we  witness  it 
in  Greece — yes,  in  Greece  alone !  The  philosopher 
beholds  it  from  afar,  and  his  doubts  are  dissipated ; 
the  historian  sees  it,  and  prepares  his  citation  of  it  as 
a  new  event  in  the  fortunes  of  nations ;  the  statesman 


i88  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

sees  it,  and  becomes  more  observant  and  more  on  his 
guard.  Such  is  the  extraordinary  time  in  which  we 
live.  My  friends,  the  insurrection  of  Greece  is  not  an 
epoch  of  our  nation  alone ;  it  is  an  epoch  of  all  nations  : 
for,  as  I  before  observed,  it  is  a  phenomenon  which 
stands  alone  in  the  political  history  of  nations. 

*  The  great  mind  of  the  highly  gifted  and  much 
lamented  Byron  observed  this  phenomenon,  and  he 
wished  to  unite  his  name  with  our  glory.  Other 
revolutions  have  happened  in  his  time,  but  he  did 
not  enter  into  any  of  them — he  did  not  assist  any  of 
them ;  for  their  character  and  nature  were  totally 
different :  the  cause  of  Greece  alone  was  a  cause 
worthy  of  him  whom  all  the  learned  men  of  Europe 
celebrate.  Consider  then,  my  friends,  consider  the 
time  in  which  you  live — in  what  a  struggle  you  are 
engaged ;  consider  that  the  glory  of  past  ages  admits 
not  of  comparison  with  yours :  the  friends  of  liberty, 
the  philanthropists,  the  philosophers  of  all  nations, 
and  especially  of  the  enlightened  and  generous  English 
nation,  congratulate  you,  and  from  afar  rejoice  with 
you ;  all  animate  you  ;  and  the  poet  of  our  age,  already 
crowned  with  immortality,  emulous  of  your  glory, 
came  personally  to  your  shores,  that  he  might,  together 
with  yourselves,  wash  out  with  his  blood  the  marks  of 
tyranny  from  our  polluted  soil. 

'  Born  in  the  great  capital  of  England,  his  descent 
noble  on  the  side  of  both  his  father  and  his  mother, 
what  unfeigned  joy  did  his  Philhellenic  heart  feel 
when  our  poor  city,  in  token  of  our  gratitude,  inscribed 
his  name  among  the  number  of  her  citizens !  In  the 
agonies  of  death — yes,  at  the  moment  when  eternity 
appeared  before  him ;  as  he  was  lingering  on  the  brink 
of  mortal  and  immortal  life;  when  all  the  material 
world  appeared  but  as  a  speck  in  the  great  works  of 
the  Divine  Omnipotence ;  in  that  awful  hour,  but  two 
names  dwelt  upon  the  lips  of  this  illustrious  individual, 
leaving  all  the  world  besides — the  names  of  his  only 
and  much-beloved  daughter,  and  of  Greece  :  these  two 
names,  deeply  engraven  on  his  heart,  even  the  moment 
of  death  could  not  efface.  "  My  daughter  !"  he  said  ; 
"  Greece !"  he  exclaimed  ;  and  his  spirit  passed  away. 
What  Grecian  heart  will  not  be  deeply  affected  as 
often  as  it  recalls  this  moment  ? 


A  FUNERAL  ORATION  189 

'  Our  tears,  my  friends,  will  be  grateful,  very  grateful, 
to  his  shade,  for  they  are  the  tears  of  sincere  affec- 
tion ;  but  much  more  grateful  will  be  our  deeds  in  the 
cause  of  our  country,  which,  though  removed  from  us, 
he  will  observe  from  the  heavens,  of  which  his  virtues 
have  doubtless  opened  to  him  the  gates.  This  return 
alone  does  he  require  from  us  for  all  his  munificence  ; 
this  reward  for  his  love  towards  us ;  this  consolation 
for  his  sufferings  in  our  cause  ;  and  this  inheritance 
for  the  loss  of  his  invaluable  life.  When  your  exer- 
tions, my  friends,  shall  have  liberated  us  from  the 
hands  which  have  so  long  held  us  down  in  chains ; 
from  the  hands  which  have  torn  from  our  arms,  our 
propert;^,  our  brothers,  our  children — then  will  his 
spirit  rejoice,  then  will  his  shade  be  satisfied.  Yes,  in 
that  blessed  hour  of  our  freedom  the  Archbishop  will 
extend  his  sacred  and  free  hand,  and  pronounce  a 
blessing  over  his  venerated  tomb ;  the  young  warrior 
sheathing  his  sword,  red  with  the  blood  of  his  tyran- 
nical oppressors,  will  strew  it  with  laurel ;  the  states- 
man will  consecrate  it  with  his  oratory ;  and  the  poet, 
resting  upon  the  marble,  will  become  doubly  inspired  ; 
the  virgins  of  Greece  (whose  beauty  our  illustrious 
fellow-citizen  Byron  has  celebrated  in  many  of  his 
poems),  without  any  longer  fearing  contamination  from 
the  rapacious  hands  of  our  oppressors,  crowning  their 
heads  with  garlands,  will  dance  round  it,  and  sing  of 
the  beauty  of  our  land,  which  the  poet  of  our  age  has 
already  commemorated  with  such  grace  and  truth. 
But  what  sorrowful  thought  now  presses  upon  my 
mind  !  My  fancy  has  carried  me  away ;  I  had  pictured 
to  myself  all  that  my  heart  could  have  desired  ;  I  had 
imagined  the  blessing  of  our  Bishops,  the  hymns,  and 
laurel  crowns,  and  the  dance  of  the  virgins  of  Greece 
round  the  tomb  of  the  benefactor  of  Greece  ; — but  this 
tomb  will  not  contain  his  precious  remains  ;  the  tomb 
will  remain  void  ;  but  a  few  days  more  will  his  body 
remain  on  the  face  of  our  land — of  his  new  chosen 
country;  it  cannot  be  given  over  to  our  arms  ;  it  must 
be  borne  to  his  own  native  land,  which  is  honoured  by 
his  birth. 

*  Oh  daughter !  most  dearly  beloved  by  him,  your 
arms  will  receive  him  ;  your  tears  will  bathe  the  tomb 
which  shall  contain  his  body;  and  the  tears  of  the 


190  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

orphans  of  Greece  will  be  shed  over  the  urn  contain- 
ing his  precious  heart,  and  over  all  the  land  of  Greece, 
for  all  the  land  of  Greece  is  his  tomb.  As  in  the  last 
moments  of  his  life  you  and  Greece  were  alone  in  his 
heart  and  upon  his  lips,  it  was  but  just  that  she  (Greece) 
should  retain  a  share  of  the  precious  remains.  Mis- 
solonghi,  his  country,  will  ever  watch  over  and  protect 
with  all  her  strength  the  urn  containing  his  venerated 
heart,  as  a  symbol  of  his  love  towards  us.  All  Greece, 
clothed  in  mourning  and  inconsolable,  accompanies  the 
procession  in  which  it  is  borne ;  all  ecclesiastical,  civil, 
and  military  honours  attend  it ;  all  his  fellow-citizens 
of  Missolonghi  and  fellow-countrymen  of  Greece  follow 
it,  crowning  it  with  their  gratitude  and  bedewing  it 
with  their  tears ;  it  is  blessed  by  the  pious  benedic- 
tions and  prayers  of  our  Archbishop,  Bishop,  and  all 
our  clergy.  Learn,  noble  lady,  learn  that  chieftains 
bore  it  on  their  shoulders,  and  carried  it  to  the  church  ; 
thousands  of  Greek  soldiers  lined  the  way  through 
which  it  passed,  with  the  muzzles  of  their  muskets, 
which  had  destroyed  so  many  tyrants,  pointed  towards 
the  ground,  as  though  they  would  war  against  that 
earth  which  was  to  deprive  them  for  ever  of  the  sight 
of  their  benefactor; — all  this  crowd  of  soldiers,  ready 
at  a  moment  to  march  against  the  implacable  enemy 
of  Christ  and  man,  surrounded  the  funeral  couch,  and 
swore  never  to  forget  the  sacrifices  made  by  your 
father  for  us,  and  never  to  allow  the  spot  where  his 
heart  is  placed  to  be  trampled  upon  by  barbarous  and 
tyrannical  feet.  Thousands  of  Christian  voices  were 
in  a  moment  heard,  and  the  temple  of  the  Almighty 
resounded  with  supplications  and  prayers  that  his 
venerated  remains  might  be  safely  conveyed  to  his 
native  land,  and  that  his  soul  might  repose  where  the 
righteous  alone  find  rest' 

'When  the  funeral  service  was  over,'  says  Gamba, 
*  we  left  the  bier  in  the  middle  of  the  church,  where  it 
remained  until  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  guarded 
by  a  detachment  of  his  own  brigade.  The  church  was 
crowded  without  cessation  by  those  who  came  to 
honour  and  to  regret  the  benefactor  of  Greece. 

'  On  the  evening  of  the  23rd  the  bier  was  privately 
carried  back  by  Byron's  officers  to  his  own  house. 
The  coffin  was  not  closed  until  the  29th  April. 


MILLINGEN  AND  TRELAWNY  191 

'  Immediately  after  death  Byron's  countenance  had 
an  air  of  calmness,  mingled  with  a  severity  that  seemed 
gradually  to  soften.  When  I  took  a  last  look  at  him, 
the  expression,  at  least  to  my  eyes,  was  truly  sublime.' 

Soon  after  death,  Byron's  body  was  embalmed,  and 
a  report  of  the  autopsy  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix. 

Millingen  says : 

'  Before  we  proceeded  to  embalm  the  body,  we 
could  not  refrain  from  pausing  to  contemplate  the 
lifeless  clay  of  one  who,  but  a  few  days  before, 
was  the  hope  of  a  whole  nation,  and  the  admiration 
of  the  civilized  world.  We  could  not  but  admire 
the  perfect  symmetry  of  his  body.  Nothing  could 
surpass  the  beaut}'^  of  his  forehead  ;  its  height  was 
extraordinary,  and  the  protuberances  under  which  the 
nobler  intellectual  faculties  are  supposed  to  reside  were 
strongly  pronounced.  His  hair,  which  curled  naturally, 
was  quite  grey ;  the  mustachios  light-coloured.  His 
physiognomy  had  suffered  little  alteration,  and  still 
preserved  the  sarcastic,  haughty  expression  which 
habitually  characterized  it.  The  chest  was  broad, 
high -vaulted ;  the  waist  very  small;  the  muscular 
system  well  pronounced ;  the  skin  delicate  and  white ; 
and  the  habit  of  the  body  plump.  The  only  blemish 
of  his  body,  which  might  otherwise  have  vied  with 
that  of  Apollo  himself,  was  the  congenital  malconfor- 
mation  of  his  left  foot  and  leg.  The  foot  was  deformed 
and  turned  inwards,  and  the  leg  was  smaller  and  shorter 
than  the  sound  one.'* 

Trelawny  arrived  at  Missolonghi  on  April  24,  after 
the  body  had  been  embalmed.  He  states  that  Byron's 
right  leg  was  shorter  than  the  other,  and  the  right  foot 
was  the  most  distorted,  being  twisted  inwards,  so  that 
only  the  edge  could  have  touched  the  ground.  The 
discrepancy  between  Trelawny's  statement  and  that 
of  Millingen  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  nearly 

*  For  further  evidence  on  this  point,  see  '  Letters  of  Lord  Byron,' 
edited  by  Rowland  Prothero,  vol.  i.,  pp.  9-1 1. 


192     BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

thirty-four  years  had  passed  before  Trelawny's  book 
was  written. 

Trelawny  wrote,  from  Fletcher's  dictation,  full  par- 
ticulars of  Byron's  last  illness  and  death.  It  is  pre- 
sumably from  these  notes  that  Trelawny  drafted 
his  letter  to  Colonel  Stanhope,  dated  April  28,  1814. 
In  reference  to  that  letter,  Gamba  says  : 

*  The  details  there  given  of  Lord  Byron's  last  illness 
and  death  are  not  quite  correct.  But  where  Mr. 
Trelawny  speaks  of  the  general  impression  produced 
by  that  lamentable  event,  he  pathetically  describes 
what  is  recognized  for  truth  by  all  those  who  were 
witnesses  of  the  melancholy  scene.' 

As  Trelawny  was  not  present  during  the  illness 
and  death  of  Byron,  he  cannot  be  held  responsible  for 
any  inaccuracies  that  may  appear  in  his  '  Records.' 
He  merely  wrote  from  Fletcher's  dictation,  without 
adding  one  word  of  his  own. 

On  Fletcher's  return  to  England,  he  gave  the  follow- 
ing evidence : 

'My  master  continued  his  usual  custom  of  riding 
daily,  when  the  weather  would  permit,  until  the  9th 
of  April.  But  on  that  ill-fated  day  he  got  very  wet, 
and  on  his  return  home  his  lordship  changed  the  whole 
of  his  dress ;  but  he  had  been  too  long  in  his  wet 
clothes,  and  the  cold,  of  which  he  had  complained  more 
or  less  ever  since  we  left  Cephalonia,  made  this  attack 
be  more  severely  felt.  Though  rather  feverish  during 
the  night,  his  lordship  slept  pretty  well,  but  complained 
in  the  morning  of  a  pain  in  his  bones  and  a  headache: 
this  did  not,  however,  prevent  him  from  taking  a  ride 
in  the  afternoon,  which,  I  grieve  to  say,  was  his  last. 
On  his  return,  my  master  said  that  the  saddle  was  not 
perfectly  dry,  from  being  so  wet  the  day  before,  and 
observed  that  he  thought  it  had  made  him  worse. 
His  lordship  was  again  visited  by  the  same  slow  fever, 
and  I  was  sorry  to  perceive,  on  the  next  morning,  that 
his  illness  appeared  to  be  increasing.     He  was  very 


I 


FLETCHER'S  EVIDENCE  193 

low,  and  complained  of  not  having  had  any  sleep 
during  the  night.  His  lordship's  appetite  was  also 
quite  gone.  I  prepared  a  little  arrowroot,  of  which  he 
took  three  or  four  spoonfuls,  saying  it  was  very  good, 
but  could  take  no  more.  It  was  not  till  the  third  day, 
the  1 2th,  that  I  began  to  be  alarmed  for  my  master. 
In  all  his  former  colds  he  always  slept  well,  and  was 
never  affected  by  this  slow  fever.  I  therefore  went  to 
Dr.  Bruno  and  Mr.  Millingen,  the  two  medical  atten- 
dants, and  inquired  minutely  into  every  circumstance 
connected  with  my  master's  present  illness :  both 
replied  that  there  was  no  danger,  and  I  might  make 
myself  perfectly  easy  on  the  subject,  for  all  would  be 
well  in  a  few  days.  This  was  on  the  13th.  On  the 
following  day  I  found  my  master  in  such  a  state,  that 
I  could  not  feel  happy  without  supplicating  that  he 
would  send  to  Zante  for  Dr.  Thomas.  After  express- 
ing my  fears  lest  his  lordship  should  get  worse,  he 
desired  me  to  consult  the  doctors;  which  I  did,  and 
was  told  there  was  no  occasion  for  calling  in  any 
person,  as  they  hoped  all  would  be  well  in  a  few  days. 
Here  I  should  remark  that  his  lordship  repeatedly 
said,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  he  was  sure  the  doctors 
did  not  understand  his  disease;  to  which  I  answered, 
"Then,  my  lord,  have  other  advice,  by  all  means." 
"They  tell  me,"  said  his  lordship,  "that  it  is  only  a 
common  cold,  which,  you  know,  I  have  had  a  thousand 
times."  "  I  am  sure,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "  that  you  never 
had  one  of  so  serious  a  nature."  "  I  think  I  never 
had,"  was  his  lordship's  answer.  I  repeated  my  sup- 
plications that  Dr.  Thomas  should  be  sent  for  on  the 
15th,  and  was  again  assured  that  my  master  would  be 
better  in  two  or  three  days.  After  these  confident 
assurances,  I  did  not  renew  my  entreaties  until  it  was 
too  late. 

*  With  respect  to  the  medicines  that  were  given  to 
my  master,  I  could  not  persuade  myself  that  those  of 
a  strong  purgative  nature  were  the  best  adapted  for 
his  complaint,  concluding  that,  as  he  had  nothing  on 
his  stomach,  the  only  effect  would  be  to  create  pain  : 
indeed,  this  must  have  been  the  case  with  a  person  in 
perfect  health.  The  whole  nourishment  taken  by  my 
master,  for  the  last  eight  days,  consisted  of  a  small 
quantity  of  broth  at  two  or  three  different  times,  and 

13 


194      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

two  spoonfuls  of  arrowroot  on  the  i8th,  the  day  before 
his  death.  The  first  time  I  heard  of  there  being  any 
intention  of  bleeding  his  lordship  was  on  the  15th, 
when  it  was  proposed  by  Dr.  Bruno,  but  objected  to  at 
first  by  my  master,  who  asked  Mr.  Millingen  if  there 
was  any  very  great  reason  for  taking  blood.  The 
latter  replied  that  it  might  be  of  service,  but  added 
that  it  could  be  deferred  till  the  next  day ;  and  accord- 
ingly my  master  was  bled  in  the  right  arm  on  the 
evening  of  the  i6th,  and  a  pound  of  blood  was  taken. 
I  observed  at  the  time  that  it  had  a  most  inflamed 
appearance.  Dr.  Bruno  now  began  to  say  he  had 
frequently  urged  my  master  to  be  bled,  but  that  he 
always  refused.  A  long  dispute  now  arose  about  the 
time  that  had  been  lost,  and  the  necessity  of  sending 
for  medical  assistance  to  Zante  ;  upon  which  I  was 
informed,  for  the  first  time,  that  it  would  be  of  no  use, 
as  my  master  would  be  better,  or  no  more,  before  the 
arrival  of  Dr.  Thomas.  His  lordship  continued  to  get 
worse  :  but  Dr.  Bruno  said  he  thought  letting  blood 
again  would  save  his  life ;  and  I  lost  no  time  in  telling 
my  master  how  necessary  it  was  to  comply  with  the 
doctor's  wishes.  To  this  he  replied  by  saying  he 
feared  they  knew  nothing  about  his  disorder  ;  and 
then,  stretching  out  his  arm,  said,  "  Here,  take  my 
arm,  and  do  whatever  you  like."  His  lordship  con- 
tinued to  get  weaker;  and  on  the  17th  he  was  bled 
twice  in  the  morning,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. The  bleeding  at  both  times  was  followed  by 
fainting  fits,  and  he  would  have  fallen  down  more  than 
once  had  I  not  caught  him  in  my  arms.  In  order  to 
prevent  such  an  accident,  I  took  care  not  to  let  his 
lordship  stir  without  supporting  him.  On  this  day  my 
master  said  to  me  twice,  "  I  cannot  sleep,  and  you  well 
know  I  have  not  been  able  to  sleep  for  more  than 
a  week  :  I  know,"  added  his  lordship,  "  that  a  man  can 
only  be  a  certain  time  without  sleep,  and  then  he  must 
go  mad,  without  anyone  being  able  to  save  him  ;  and  I 
would  ten  times  sooner  shoot  myself  than  be  mad,  for 
I  am  not  afraid  of  dying — I  am  more  fit  to  die  than 
people  think."  I  do  not,  however,  believe  that  his 
lordship  had  any  apprehension  of  his  fate  till  the  day 
after,  the  i8th,  when  he  said,  "  I  fear  you  and  Tita 
will  be  ill  by  sitting  up  constantly  night  and  day."     I 


I 


THE  CLOSING  SCENE  195 

answered,  "  We  shall  never  leave  your  lordship  till 
you  are  better."  As  my  master  had  a  slight  fit  of 
delirium  on  the  i6th,  I  took  care  to  remove  the  pistols 
and  stiletto  which  had  hitherto  been  kept  at  his  bed- 
side in  the  night.  On  the  i8th  his  lordship  addressed 
me  frequently,  and  seemed  to  be  very  much  dissatisfied 
with  his  medical  treatment.  I  then  said,  "  Do  allow 
me  to  send  for  Dr.  Thomas,"  to  which  he  answered, 
"  Do  so,  but  be  quick.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  let  you  do 
so  before,  as  I  am  sure  they  have  mistaken  my  disease. 
Write  yourself,  for  I  know  they  would  not  like  to  see 
other  doctors  here," 

*  I  did  not  lose  a  moment  in  obeying  my  master's 
orders  ;  and  on  informing  Dr.  Bruno  and  Mr.  Miilingen 
of  it,  they  said  it  was  very  right,  as  they  now  began  to 
be  afraid  themselves.  On  returning  to  my  master's 
room,  his  first  words  were,  "  Have  you  sent  ?"  "  I  have, 
my  lord,"  was  my  answer;  upon  which  he  said,  "You 
have  done  right,  for  I  should  like  to  know  what  is 
the  matter  with  me."  Although  his  lordship  did  not 
appear  to  think  his  dissolution  was  so  near,  I  could 
perceive  he  was  getting  weaker  every  hour,  and  he 
even  began  to  have  occasional  fits  of  delirium.  He 
afterwards  said,  "  I  now  begin  to  think  I  am  seriously 
ill ;  and,  in  case  I  should  be  taken  off"  suddenly,  I  wish 
to  give  you  several  directions,  which  I  hope  you  will 
be  particular  in  seeing  executed."  I  answered  I  would, 
in  case  such  an  event  came  to  pass,  but  expressed  a 
hope  that  he  would  live  many  years  to  execute  them 
much  better  himself  than  I  could.  To  this  my  master 
replied,  "No,  it  is  now  nearly  over,"  and  then  added, 
"  I  must  tell  you  all  without  losing  a  moment."  I  then 
said,  "  Shall  I  go,  my  lord,  and  fetch  pen,  ink,  and 
paper  ?"  "  Oh,  my  God  !  no,  you  will  lose  too  much 
time  ;  and  I  have  it  not  to  spare,  for  my  time  is  now 
short,"  said  his  Lordship ;  and  immediately  after, 
"  Now,  pay  attention."  His  lordship  commenced  by 
saying,  "  You  will  be  provided  for."  I  begged  him, 
however,  to  proceed  with  things  of  more  consequence. 
He  then  continued,  "Oh,  my  poor  dear  child!  —  my 
dear  Ada !  My  God  !  could  I  but  have  seen  her ! 
Give  her  my  blessing — and  my  dear  sister  Augusta 
and  her  children; — and  you  will  goto  Lady  Byron,  and 
say — tell  her  everything  ; — you  are  friends  with  her." 

13—2 


196     BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

His  lordship  appeared  to  be  greatly  affected  at  this 
moment.  Here  my  master's  voice  failed  him,  so  that 
1  could  only  catch  a  word  at  intervals  ;  but  he  kept 
muttering  something  very  seriously  for  some  time, 
and  would  often  raise  his  voice  and  say,  "  Fletcher, 
now,  if  you  do  not  execute  every  order  which  I  have 
given  you,  I  will  torment  you  hereafter  if  possible." 
Here  I  told  his  lordship,  in  a  state  of  the  greatest 
perplexity,  that  I  had  not  understood  a  word  of  what 
he  said ;  to  which  he  replied,  "  Oh,  my  God !  then  all 
is  lost,  for  it  is  now  too  late  !  Can  it  be  possible  you 
have  not  understood  me  ?"  "  No,  my  lord,"  said  I, 
"  but  I  pray  you  to  try  and  inform  me  once  more." 
'*  How  can  I  ?"  rejoined  my  master ;  "  it  is  now  too  late, 
and  all  is  over !"  I  said,  "  Not  our  will,  but  God's  be 
done  !"  and  he  answered,  "  Yes,  not  mine  be  done — but 
I  will  try."  His  lordship  did  indeed  make  several 
efforts  to  speak,  but  could  only  repeat  two  or  three 
words  at  a  time,  such  as  "My  wife!  my  child!  my 
sister !  You  know  all — you  must  say  all — you  know 
my  wishes."     The  rest  was  quite  unintelligible. 

*A  consultation  was  now  held  about  noon,  when  it 
was  determined  to  administer  some  Peruvian  bark  and 
wine.  My  master  had  now  been  nine  days  without 
any  sustenance  whatever,  except  what  I  have  already 
mentioned.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  words  which 
can  only  interest  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed, 
and  which,  if  required,  I  shall  communicate  to  them- 
selves, it  was  impossible  to  understand  anything  his 
lordship  said  after  taking  the  bark.  He  expressed  a 
wish  to  sleep.  I  at  one  time  asked  whether  I  should 
call  Mr.  Parry;  to  which  he  replied,  "Yes,  you  may 
call  him."  Mr.  Parry  desired  him  to  compose  himself 
He  shed  tears,  and  apparently  sunk  into  a  slumber. 
Mr.  Parry  went  away,  expecting  to  find  him  refreshed 
on  his  return  ;  but  it  was  the  commencement  of  the 
lethargy  preceding  his  death.  The  last  words  I  heard 
my  master  utter  were  at  six  o'clock  on  the  evening  of 
the  i8th,  when  he  said,  "I  must  sleep  now";  upon 
which  he  laid  down  never  to  rise  again  ! — for  he  did  not 
move  hand  or  foot  during  the  following  twenty-four 
hours.  His  lordship  appeared,  however,  to  be  in  a 
state  of  suffocation  at  intervals,  and  had  a  frequent 
rattling   in   the  throat.     On  these  occasions  I  called 


DEATH  197 

Tita  to  assist  me  in  raising  his  head,  and  I  thought  he 
seemed  to  get  quite  stiff.  The  ratthng  and  choking 
in  the  throat  took  place  every  half-hour;  and  we  con- 
tinued to  raise  his  head  whenever  the  fit  came  on,  till 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  19th,  when  I  saw  my 
master  open  his  eyes  and  then  shut  them,  but  without 
showing  any  symptom  of  pain,  or  moving  hand  or  foot. 
"Oh,  my  God!"  1  exclaimed,  "I  fear  his  lordship  is 
gone."  The  doctors  then  felt  his  pulse,  and  said,  "  You 
are  right — he  is  gone."  ' 

Dr.  Bruno's  answer  to  the  above  statement  will  be 
found  in  the  Appendix. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Several  days  passed  after  the  requiem  service  held  in 
the  Church  of  S.  Spiridion.  Meanwhile  the  necessary 
preparations  were  made  for  transporting  the  body  to 
Zante.  On  May  2  the  coffin  was  carried  down  to  the 
seaside  on  the  shoulders  of  four  military  chiefs,  and 
attended  in  the  same  order  as  before.  The  guns  of 
the  fortress  saluted  until  the  moment  of  embarkation. 
The  vessel  which  bore  the  body  reached  the  island  of 
Zante  on  the  third  day  after  leaving  Missolonghi, 
having,  as  Gamba  says,  taken  the  same  course  exactly 
as  on  the  voyage  out.  The  vessel,  owing  to  head-winds, 
was  brought  to  anchor  close  to  the  same  rocks  where 
Byron  had  sought  shelter  from  the  Turkish  frigate. 

'  On  the  evening  of  the  4th  May,'  says  Gamba,  '  we 
made  the  port  of  Zante,  and  heard  that  Lord  Sidney 
Osborne  had  arrived,  but,  not  finding  us  in  that  island, 
had  sailed  for  Missolonghi.' 

Blaquiere,  who  was  at  Zante  at  the  time,  says  : 

*  The  vessel  was  recognized  at  a  considerable 
distance,  owing  to  her  flag  being  at  half-mast.  She 
entered  the  mole  towards  sunset.  The  body  was 
accompanied  by  the  whole  of  his  lordship's  attendants, 
who  conveyed  it  to  the  lazaretto  on  the  following 
morning.' 

During  the  time  that  the  body  of  Lord  Byron  was 
detained  at  the  lazaretto,  a  discussion  arose  as  to  the 

198 


BLAQUIERE'S  TRIBUTE  199 

final  disposal  of  the  remains,  Colonel  Stanhope  and 
others  being  of  opinion  that  they  should  be  interred  in 
the  Parthenon  at  Athens.  It  would  seem  that  such  a 
course  would  have  met  with  Byron's  approval ;  but,  in 
deference  to  what  were  then  supposed  to  have  been 
the  wishes  of  the  poet's  family,  it  was  finally  arranged 
to  charter  the  brig  Florida,  which  had  lately  arrived 
at  Zante  with  the  first  instalment  of  the  Greek  loan. 
In  this  connection,  the  last  entry  in  Gamba's  journal 
may  be  quoted  in  full : 

'A  few  days  after  our  arrival  at  Zante,  Colonel 
Stanhope  came  from  the  Morea.  He  had  already 
written  to  inform  us  that  the  Greek  chieftains  of 
Athens  had  expressed  their  desire  that  Lord  Byron 
should  be  buried  in  the  Temple  of  Theseus.  The 
citizens  of  Missolonghi  had  made  a  similar  request  for 
their  town  ;  and  we  thought  it  advisable  to  accede 
to  their  wishes  so  far  as  to  leave  with  them,  for  inter- 
ment, one  of  the  vessels  containing  a  portion  of  the 
honoured  remains.  As  he  had  not  expressed  any 
wishes  on  the  subject,*  we  thought  the  most  becoming 
course  was  to  convey  him  to  his  native  country. 
Accordingly,  the  ship  that  had  brought  us  the  specie 
was  engaged  for  that  purpose.  Colonel  Stanhope 
kindly  took  charge;  and  on  the  25th  May  the  Florida, 
having  on  board  the  remains  of  Lord  Byron,  set  sail 
for  England  from  the  port  of  Zante.' 

The  following  tribute  to  Byron  from  the  pen  of 
Blaquiere,  written  on  May  24,  1824,  must  here  be 
given  : 

'  Every  letter  of  Byron's,  in  which  any  allusion  was 
made  to  the  Greek  cause,  proved  how  judiciously 
he  viewed  that  great  question,  while  it  displayed  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  people  he  had  come  to 
assist.  This  latter  circumstance,  which  made  him  more 
cautious  in  avoiding  every  interference  calculated  to 

*  It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  this  with  Millingen's  statement. 


200  BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

wound  the  self-love  of  the  Greeks,  who,  though  fallen, 
are  still  remarkable  for  their  pride,  accounts  for  the 
great  popularity  he  had  acquired. 

*  It  may  be  truly  said  that  no  foreigner  who  has 
hitherto  espoused  the  cause  made  greater  allowance 
for  the  errors  inseparable  from  it  than  did  Lord 
Byron. 

'  With  respect  to  his  opinion  as  to  the  best  mode  of 
bringing  the  contest  to  a  triumphant  close,  and  healing 
those  differences  which  have  been  created  by  party 
spirit  or  faction,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the 
subject  occupied  his  particular  attention,  and  he  was 
even  more  than  once  heard  to  say  that  "  no  person  had 
as  yet  hit  upon  the  right  plan  for  securing  the  independ- 
ence of  Greece." 

'  While  sedulously  employed  in  reconciling  jarring 
interests  and  promoting  a  spirit  of  union,  the  grand 
maxim  which  he  laboured  to  instil  into  the  Greeks 
was  that  of  making  every  other  object  secondary  and 
subservient  to  the  paramount  one  of  driving  out  the 
Turks.' 

At  six  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  Blaquiere 
added  the  following  words  : 

'  I  have  this  instant  returned  on  shore,  after  having 
performed  the  melancholy  duty  of  towing  the  remains 
of  Lord  Byron  alongside  the  Florida. 

'  I  should  add  that,  in  consequence  of  there  being  no 
means  of  procuring  lead  for  the  coffin  at  Zante,  it  was 
arranged  that  the  tin  case  prepared  at  Missolonghi 
should  be  enclosed  in  wood ;  so  that  there  is  now  no 
fear  that  the  body  will  not  reach  England  in  perfect 
preservation.  The  only  mark  of  respect  shown  to-day 
was  displayed  by  the  merchant  vessels  in  the  bay  and 
mole.  The  whole  of  these,  whether  English  or  foreign, 
had  their  flags  at  half-mast,  and  many  of  them  fired 
guns.  The  Florida  fired  minute-guns  from  the  time  of 
our  leaving  the  lazaretto  until  we  got  alongside,  when 
the  body  was  taken  on  board,  and  placed  in  a  space 
prepared  for  that  purpose.  The  whole  is  painted 
black,  and,  thanks  to  the  foresight  of  my  friend  Robin- 
son, an  escutcheon  very  well  executed  designates  the 
mournful  receptacle.     Although  no  honours  have  been 


HOBHOUSE'S  OPINION  OF  BYRON      201 

paid  to  the  remains  of  our  immortal  poet  here,  we  look 
forward  with  melancholy  satisfaction  to  those  which 
await  him  in  the  land  of  his  birth. 

*  However  bitterly  his  pen  may  have  lashed  the  vices 
and  follies  of  his  day,  it  is  not  the  least  honourable 
trait  in  our  national  character  that  neither  personal 
dislike  nor  those  prejudices  which  arise  from  literary 
jealousy  and  political  animosity  prevent  us  from  duly 
appreciating  departed  worth,  and  even  forgetting  those 
aberrations  to  which  all  are  more  or  less  liable  in  this 
state  of  imperfection  and  fallibility.' 

The  following  extracts  are  taken  from  Lord 
Broughton's  'Recollections  of  a  Long  Life,'  a  work 
that  was  printed,  but  not  published,  in  1865.  As  the 
opinions  of  Byron's  life-long  friend,  John  Cam  Hob- 
house,  they  cannot  fail  to  interest  the  reader  :* 

'  How  much  soever  the  Greeks  of  that  day  may  have 
differed  on  other  topics,  there  was  no  difference  of 
opinion  in  regard  to  the  loss  they  had  sustained  by  the 
death  of  Byron.  Those  who  have  read  Colonel 
Leicester  Stanhope's  interesting  volume,  "  Greece  in 
1823  and  1824,"  and  more  particularly  Colonel  Stan- 
hope's "Sketch"  and  Mr.  Finlay's  "Reminiscences"  of 
Byron,  will  have  seen  him  just  as  he  appeared  to  me 
during  our  long  intimacy.  I  liked  him  a  great  deal  too 
well  to  be  an  impartial  judge  of  his  character ;  but  I 
can  confidently  appeal  to  the  impressions  he  made 
upon  the  two  above-mentioned  witnesses  of  his  con- 
duct, under  very  trying  circumstances,  for  a  justifica- 
tion of  my  strong  affection  for  him — an  affection  not 
weakened  by  the  forty  years  of  a  busy  and  chequered 
life  that  have  passed  over  me  since  I  saw  him  laid  in 
his  grave. 

*  The  influence  he  had  acquired  in  Greece  was  un- 
bounded, and  he  had  exerted  it  in  a  manner  most 
useful  to  her  cause.  Lord  Sidney  Osborne,  writing 
to  Mrs.  Leigh,  said  that,  if  Byron  had  never  written  a 
line  in  his  life,  he  had  done  enough,  during  the  last  six 
months  in  Greece,  to  immortalize  his  name.     He  added 

*  Edinburgh  Review,  April,  1871,  pp.  294-298. 


202      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

that  no  one  unacquainted  with  the  circumstances  of 
the  case  could  have  any  idea  of  the  difficulties  he  had 
overcome.  He  had  reconciled  the  contending  parties, 
and  had  given  a  character  of  humanity  and  civilization 
to  the  warfare  in  which  they  were  engaged,  besides 
contriving  to  prevent  them  from  offending  their  power- 
ful neighbours  in  the  Ionian  Islands. 

'  I  heard  that  Sir  F.  Adam,*  in  a  despatch  to  Lord 
Bathurst,  bore  testimony  to  his  great  qualities,  and 
lamented  his  death  as  depriving  the  Ionian  Govern- 
ment of  the  only  man  with  whom  they  could  act  with 
safety.  Mavrocordato,  in  his  letter  to  Dr.  Bowring, 
called  him  "  a  great  man,"  and  confessed  that  he  was 
almost  ignorant  how  to  act  when  deprived  of  such  a 
coadjutor.  .  .  .  On  Thursday,  July  i,  I  heard  that  the 
Florida^  with  the  remains  of  Byron,  had  arrived  in  the 
Downs,  and  I  went  the  same  evening  to  Rochester. 
The  next  morning  I  went  to  Standgate  Creek,  and, 
taking  a  boat,  went  on  board  the  vessel.  There  I 
found  Colonel  Leicester  Stanhope,  Dr.  Bruno,  Fletcher, 
Byron's  valet,  with  three  others  of  his  servants.  Three 
dogs  that  had  belonged  to  my  friend  were  playing  about 
the  deck.  I  could  hardly  bring  myself  to  look  at  them. 
The  vessel  had  got  under-weigh,  and  we  beat  up  the 
river  to  Gravesend.  I  cannot  describe  what  I  felt 
during  the  five  or  six  hours  of  our  passage.  I  was 
the  last  person  who  shook  hands  with  Byron  when  he 
left  England  in  1816.  I  recollected  his  waving  his  cap 
to  me  as  the  packet  bounded  off  on  a  curling  wave 
from  the  pier-head  at  Dover,  and  here  I  was  now 
coming  back  to  England  with  his  corpse. 

'  Poor  Fletcher  burst  into  tears  when  he  first  saw 
me,  and  wept  bitterly  when  he  told  me  the  particulars 
of  my  friend's  last  illness.  These  have  been  frequently 
made  public,  and  need  not  be  repeated  here.  I  heard, 
however,  on  undoubted  authority,  that  until  he  became 
delirious  he  was  perfectly  calm  ;  and  I  called  to  mind 
how  often  I  had  heard  him  say  that  he  was  not  app)re- 
hensive  as  to  death  itself,  but  as  to  how,  from  physical 
infirmity,  he  might  behave  at  that  inevitable  hour.  On 
one  occasion  he  said  to  me,  "  Let  no  one  come  near  me 

*  He  succeeded  Sir  Thomas  Maitland  as  High  Commissioner  of 
the  Ionian  Islands. 


BYRON  AND  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY    203 

when  I  am  dying,  if  you  can  help  it,  and  we  happen  to 
be  together  at  the  time." 

*  The  Florida  anchored  at  Gravesend,  and  I  returned 
to  London  ;  Colonel  Stanhope  accompanied  me.  This 
was  on  Friday,  July  2.  On  the  following  Monday  I 
went  to  Doctors'  Commons  and  proved  Byron's  will. 
Mr.  Hanson  did  so  likewise.  Thence  I  went  to  London 
Bridge,  got  into  a  boat,  and  went  to  London  Docks 
Buoy,  where  the  Florida  was  anchored.  I  found  Mr. 
Woodeson,  the  undertaker,  on  board,  employed  in 
emptying  the  spirit  from  the  large  barrel  containing 
the  box  that  held  the  corpse.  This  box  was  removed, 
and  placed  on  deck  by  the  side  of  a  leaden  coffin.  I 
sta3^ed  whilst  the  iron  hoops  were  knocked  off  the 
box ;  but  I  could  not  bear  to  see  the  remainder  of  the 
operation,  and  went  into  the  cabin.  Whilst  there  I 
looked  over  the  sealed  packet  of  papers  belonging  to 
Byron,  which  he  had  deposited  at  Cephalonia,  and 
which  had  not  been  opened  since  he  left  them  there. 
Captain  Hodgson  of  the  Florida,  the  captain's  father, 
and  Fletcher,  were  with  me ;  we  examined  every  paper, 
and  did  not  find  any  will.  Those  present  signed  a 
document  to  that  effect. 

'After  the  removal  of  the  corpse  into  the  coffin,  and 
the  arrival  of  the  order  from  the  Custom-house,  I 
accompanied  the  undertaker  in  the  barge  with  the 
coffin.  There  were  many  boats  round  the  ship  at  the 
time,  and  the  shore  was  crowded  with  spectators.  We 
passed  quietly  up  the  river,  and  landed  at  Palace  Yard 
stairs.  Thence  the  coffin  and  the  small  chest  contain- 
ing the  heart  were  carried  to  the  house  in  George 
Street,  and  deposited  in  the  room  prepared  for  their 
reception.  The  room  was  decently  hung  with  black, 
but  there  was  no  other  decoration  than  an  escutcheon 
of  the  Byron  arms,  roughly  daubed  on  a  deal  board. 

*On  reaching  my  rooms  at  the  Albany,  I  found  a 
note  from  Mr.  Murray,  telling  me  that  he  had  received 
a  letter  from  Dr.  Ireland,  politely  declining  to  allow 
the  burial  of  Byron  in  Westminster  Abbey;  but  it 
was  not  until  the  next  day  that,  to  my  great  surprise, 
I  learnt,  on  reading  the  doctor's  note,  that  Mr.  Murray 
had  made  the  request  to  the  Dean  in  my  name.  I 
thought  that  it  had  been  settled  that  Mr.  Gifford  should 
sound   the  Dean  of  Westminster  previously  to  any 


204      BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

formal  request  being  made.  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Murray, 
asking  him  to  inform  the  Dean  that  I  had  not  made 
the  request.     Whether  he  did  so,  I  never  inquired. 

'  I  ascertained  from  Mrs.  Leigh  that  it  was  wished 
the  interment  should  take  place  at  the  family  vault  at 
Hucknall  in  Nottinghamshire.  The  utmost  eagerness 
was  shown,  both  publicly  and  privately,  to  get  sight 
of  anything  connected  with  Byron.  Lafayette  was  at 
that  time  on  his  way  to  America,  and  a  young  French- 
man came  over  from  the  General  at  Havre,  and  wrote 
me  a  note  requesting  a  sight  of  the  deceased  poet. 
The  coffin  had  been  closed,  and  his  wishes  could  not 
be  complied  with.  A  young  man  came  on  board  the 
Florida^  and  in  very  moving  terms  besought  me  to 
allow  him  to  take  one  look  at  him.  I  was  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  refuse,  as  I  did  not  know  the  young  man, 
and  there  were  many  round  the  vessel  who  would 
have  made  the  same  request.  He  was  bitterly  dis- 
appointed ;  and  when  I  gave  him  a  piece  of  the  cotton 
in  which  the  corpse  had  been  wrapped,  he  took  it 
with  much  devotion,  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket-book. 
Mr.  Phillips,  the  Academician,  applied  for  permission 
to  take  a  likeness,  but  I  heard  from  Mrs.  Leigh  that 
the  features  of  her  brother  had  been  so  disfigured  by 
the  means  used  to  preserve  his  remains,  that  she 
scarcely  recognized  them.  This  was  the  fact ;  for  I 
had  summoned  courage  enough  to  look  at  my  dead 
friend ;  so  completely  was  he  altered,  that  the  sight 
did  not  affect  me  so  much  as  looking  at  his  hand- 
writing, or  anything  that  I  knew  had  belonged  to  him.' 

The  following  account  by  Colonel  Leicester  Stan- 
hope, probably  outlined  during  his  voyage  home  with 
Byron's  body,  is  well  worth  reading.  It  unveils  the 
personality  of  Byron  as  he  appeared  during  those 
trying  times  at  Missolonghi,  when,  tortured  by  illness 
and  worried  by  dissensions  among  his  coadjutors,  he 
gave  his  life  to  Greece.  Stanhope's  sketch  conveys 
the  honest  opinion  of  a  man  whose  political  views, 
differing  fundamentally  from  those  of  Byron,  brought 
them  often  in  collision.     But  for  this  reason,  perhaps, 


LEICESTER  STANHOPE  ON  BYRON     205 

this  record  is  the  more  valuable.  It  is  written  without 
prejudice,  with  considerable  perspicuity,  and  with 
unquestionable  sincerity.  Its  peculiar  value  lies  in  the 
approval  which,  as  we  have  seen,  it  received  from 
Mr.  Hobhouse,  who  undoubtedly  was  better  acquainted 
with  the  character  of  Byron  than  any  of  his  con- 
temporaries. 

'  In  much  of  what  certain  authors  have  lately  said  in 
praise  of  Lord  Byron  I  concur.  The  public  are  in- 
debted to  them  for  useful  information  concerning  that 
extraordinary  man's  biography.  I  do  not,  however, 
think  that  any  of  them  have  given  of  him  a  full  and 
masterly  description.  It  would  require  a  person  of  his 
own  wonderful  capacity  to  draw  his  character,  and 
even  he  could  not  perform  this  task  otherwise  than  by 
continuing  the  history  of  what  passed  in  his  mind ;  for 
his  character  was  as  versatile  as  his  genius.  From  his 
writings,  therefore,  he  must  be  judged,  and  from  them 
can  he  alone  be  understood.  His  character  was,  indeed, 
poetic,  like  his  works,  and  he  partook  of  the  virtues 
and  vices  of  the  heroes  of  his  imagination.  Lord 
Byron  was  original  and  eccentric  in  all  things,  and  his 
conduct  and  his  writings  were  unlike  those  of  other 
men.  He  might  have  said  with  Rousseau  :  "  Moi  seul. 
Je  sens  mon  coeur  et  je  connois  les  hommes.  Je  ne 
suis  fait  comme  aucun  de  ceux  qui  existent.  Si  je  ne 
vaux  pas  mieux,  au  moins,  je  suis  autre.  Si  la  nature 
a  bien  ou  mal  fait  de  briser  le  moule  dans  lequel  elle 
m'a  jette,  c'est  dont  on  ne  pent  juger  qu'apres  m'avoir 
lu."  All  that  can  be  hoped  is,  that,  after  a  number  of 
the  ephemeral  sketches  of  Lord  Byron  have  been  pub- 
lished, and  ample  information  concerning  him  obtained, 
some  master-hand  will  undertake  the  task  of  drawing 
his  portrait.  If  anything  like  justice  be  done  to  Lord 
Byron,  his  character  will  appear  far  more  extraordinary 
than  any  his  imagination  has  produced,  and  not  less 
wonderful  than  those  sublime  and  inimitable  sketches 
created  and  painted  by  the  fanciful  pen  of  Shakespeare. 

'  There  were  two  circumstances  which  appear  to  me 
to  have  had  a  powerful  influence  on  Byron's  conduct. 
I  allude  to  his  lameness  and  his  marriage.     The  de- 


2o6      BYRON :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

formity  of  his  foot  constantly  preyed  on  his  spirits  and 
soured  his  temper.  It  is  extraordinary,  however,  and 
contrary,  I  believe,  to  the  conduct  of  the  generality  of 
lame  persons,  that  he  pitied,  sympathized,  and  be- 
friended, those  who  laboured  under  similar  defects. 

'  With  respect  to  Lady  B3^ron,  her  image  appeared 
to  be  rooted  in  his  mind.  She  had  wounded  Lord 
Byron's  pride  by  having  refused  his  first  offer  of 
marriage ;  by  having  separated  herself  from  him  whom 
others  assiduously  courted  ;  and  by  having  resisted  all 
the  efforts  of  his  genius  to  compel  her  again  to  yield 
to  his  dominion.  Had  Lady  Byron  been  submissive, 
could  she  have  stooped  to  become  a  caressing  slave, 
like  other  ingenious  slaves,  she  might  have  governed 
her  lord  and  master.  But  no,  she  had  a  mind  too 
great,  and  was  too  much  of  an  Englishwoman  to  bow 
so  low.  These  contrarieties  set  Lord  Byron's  heart 
on  fire,  roused  all  his  passions,  gave  birth,  no  doubt, 
to  many  of  his  sublimest  thoughts,  and  impelled  him 
impetuously  forward  in  his  zigzag  career.  When 
angry  or  humorous,  she  became  the  subject  of  his  wild 
sport ;  at  other  times  she  seemed,  though  he  loved 
her  not,  to  be  the  mistress  of  his  feelings,  and  one 
whom  he  in  vain  attempted  to  cast  from  his  thoughts. 
Thus,  in  a  frolicsome  tone,  I  have  heard  him  sketch 
characters,  and,  speaking  of  a  certain  acquaintance,  say, 
"  With  the  exception  of  Southey  and  Lady  Byron, 
there  is  no  one  1  hate  so  much."  This  was  a  noisy 
shot — a  sort  of  a  feu  de  joie,  that  inflicted  no  wound, 
and  left  no  scar  behind.  Lord  Byron  was  in  reality  a 
good-natured  man,  and  it  was  a  violence  to  his  nature, 
which  he  seldom  practised,  either  to  conceal  what  he 
thought  or  to  harbour  revenge.  In  one  conversation 
which  I  had  with  Lord  Byron,  he  dwelt  much  upon 
the  acquirements  and  virtues  of  Lady  Byron,  and  even 
said  she  had  committed  no  fault  but  that  of  having 
married  him.  The  truth  is,  that  he  was  not  formed 
for  marriage.  His  riotous  genius  could  not  bear  re- 
straint. No  woman  could  have  lived  with  him  but  one 
devoid  of,  or  of  subdued,  feelings — an  Asiatic  slave. 
Lord  Byron,  it  is  well  known,  was  passionately  fond 
of  his  child  ;  of  this  he  gave  me  the  following  proof. 
He  showed  me  a  miniature  of  Ada,  as  also  a  clever 
description  of  her  character,  drawn  by  her  mother,  and 


BYRON  FIRM  AS  A  ROCK  207 

forwarded  to  him  by  the  person  he  most  esteemed,  his 
amiable  sister.  After  I  had  examined  the  letter,  while 
reflecting  on  its  contents,  I  gazed  intently  on  the 
picture  ;  Lord  Byron,  observing  me  in  deep  meditation, 
impatiently  said,  "Well,  well,  what  do  you  think  of 
Ada  ?"  I  replied,  "  If  these  are  true  representations 
of  Ada,  and  are  not  drawn  to  flatter  your  vanity,  you 
have  engrafted  on  her  your  virtues  and  your  failings. 
She  is  in  mind  and  feature  the  very  image  of  her 
father."  Never  did  I  see  man  feel  more  pleasure  than 
Lord  Byron  felt  at  this  remark;  his  eyes  lightened 
with  ecstasy. 

'  Lord  Byron's  mental  and  personal  courage  was 
unlike  that  of  other  men.  To  the  superficial  observer 
his  conduct  seemed  to  be  quite  unsettled  ;  this  was 
really  the  case  to  a  certain  extent.  His  genius  was 
boundless  and  excursive,  and  in  conversation  his 
tongue  went  rioting  on 

'  "  From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe." 

'Still,  upon  the  whole,  no  man  was  more  constant, 
and,  I  may  almost  say,  more  obstinate  in  the  pursuit 
of  some  great  objects.  For  example,  in  religion  and 
politics  he  seemed  firm  as  a  rock,  though  like  a  rock 
he  was  subjected  to  occasional  rude  shocks,  the  con- 
vulsions of  agitated  nature. 

'  The  assertions  I  have  ventured  to  make  of  Lord 
Byron  having  fixed  opinions  on  certain  material  ques- 
tions are  not  according  to  his  own  judgment.  From 
what  fell  from  his  own  lips,  1  could  draw  no  such 
conclusions,  for,  in  conversing  with  me  on  government 
and  religion,  and  after  going  wildly  over  these  subjects, 
sometimes  in  a  grave  and  philosophical,  and  sometimes 
in  a  laughing  and  humorous  strain,  he  would  say : 
*'  The  more  I  think,  the  more  I  doubt;  I  am  a  perfect 
sceptic."  In  contradiction  to  this  assertion,  I  set  Lord 
Byron's  recorded  sentiments,  and  his  actions  from  the 
period  of  his  bo3^hood  to  that  of  his  death ;  and  I  con- 
tend that  although  he  occasionally  veered  about,  yet 
he  always  returned  to  certain  fixed  opinions  ;  and  that 
he  felt  a  constant  attachment  to  liberty,  according  to 
our  notions  of  liberty,  and  that,  although  no  Christian, 
he  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  existence  of  a  God.  It 
is,  therefore,  equally  remote  from  truth  to  represent 


2o8  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

him  as  either  an  atheist  or  a  Christian :  he  was,  as  he 
has  often  told  me,  a  confirmed  deist. 

'  Lord  Byron  was  no  party  politician.  Lord  Clare 
was  the  person  whom  he  liked  best,  because  he  was 
his  old  school  acquaintance.  Mr.  John  Cam  Hobhouse 
was  his  long-tried,  his  esteemed,  and  valued  literary 
and  personal  friend.  Death  has  severed  these,  but 
there  is  a  soul  in  friendship  that  can  never  die.  No  man 
ever  chose  a  nobler  friend.  Mr.  Hobhouse  has  given 
many  proofs  of  this,  and  among  others,  I  saw  him, 
from  motives  of  high  honour,  destroy  a  beautiful  poem 
of  Lord  Byron's,  and,  perhaps,  the  last  he  ever  com- 
posed. The  same  reason  that  induced  Mr.  H.  to  tear 
this  fine  manuscript  will,  of  course,  prevent  him  or 
me  from  ever  divulging  its  contents.  Mr.  Douglas 
Kinnaird  was  another  for  whom  Lord  Byron  enter- 
tained the  sincerest  esteem :  no  less  on  account  of  his 
high  social  qualities,  than  as  a  clear-sighted  man  of 
business,  on  whose  discretion  he  could  implicitly  rely. 
Sir  Francis  Burdett  was  the  politician  whom  he  most 
admired.  He  used  to  say,  "  Burdett  is  an  Englishman 
of  the  old  school."  He  compared  the  Baronet  to  the 
statesmen  of  Charles  I.'s  time,  whom  he  considered 
the  sternest  and  loftiest  spirits  that  Britain  had  pro- 
duced. Lord  Byron  entertained  high  aristocratic 
notions,  and  had  much  family  pride.  He  admired, 
notwithstanding,  the  American  institutions,  but  did  not 
consider  them  of  so  democratic  a  nature  as  is  generally 
imagined.  He  found,  he  said,  many  Englishmen  and 
English  writers  more  imbued  with  liberal  notions  than 
those  Americans  and  American  authors  with  whom  he 
was  acquainted. 

*  Lord  Byron  was  chivalrous  even  to  Quixotism. 
This  might  have  lowered  him  in  the  estimation  of  the 
wise,  had  he  not  given  some  extraordinary  proofs  of 
the  noblest  courage.  For  example,  the  moment  he 
recovered  from  that  alarming  fit  which  took  place  in 
my  room,  he  inquired  again  and  again,  with  the  utmost 
composure,  whether  he  was  in  danger.  If  in  danger, 
he  desired  the  physician  honestly  to  apprise  him  of 
it,  for  he  feared  not  death.  Soon  after  this  dreadful 
paroxysm,  when  Lord  Byron,  faint  with  overbleeding, 
was  lying  on  his  sick-bed,  with  his  whole  nervous 
system    completely    shaken,   the   mutinous   Suliotes, 


A  SUBLIME  SCENE  209 

covered  with  dirt  and  splendid  attires,  broke  into  his 
apartment,  brandishing  their  costly  arms,  and  loudly 
demanding  their  wild  rights.  Lord  Byron,  electrified 
by  this  unexpected  act,  seemed  to  recover  from  his 
sickness ;  and  the  more  the  Suliotes  raged,  the  more 
his  calm  courage  triumphed.  The  scene  was  truly 
sublime. 

*  At  times  Lord  Byron  would  become  disgusted 
with  the  Greeks,  on  account  of  their  horrid  cruelties, 
their  delays,  their  importuning  him  for  money,  and  their 
not  fulfilling  their  promises.  That  he  should  feel  thus 
was  very  natural,  although  all  this  is  just  what  might  be 
anticipated  from  a  people  breaking  loose  from  ages  of 
bondage.  We  are  too  apt  to  expect  the  same  conduct 
from  men  educated  as  slaves  (and  here  be  it  remem- 
bered that  the  Greeks  were  the  Helots  of  slaves)  that 
we  find  in  those  who  have,  from  their  infancy,  breathed 
the  wholesome  atmosphere  of  liberty. 

*  Most  persons  assume  a  virtuous  character.  Lord 
Byron's  ambition,  on  the  contrary,  was  to  make  the 
world  imagine  that  he  was  a  sort  of  **  Satan,"  though 
occasionally  influenced  by  lofty  sentiments  to  the  per- 
formance of  great  actions.  Fortunately  for  his  fame, 
he  possessed  another  quality,  by  which  he  stood  com- 
pletely unmasked,  tie  was  the  most  ingenuous  of 
men,  and  his  nature,  in  the  main  good,  always 
triumphed  over  his  acting. 

*  There  was  nothing  that  he  detested  more  than  to 
be  thought  merely  a  great  poet,  though  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  esteemed  inferior  as  a  dramatist  to  Shak- 
speare.  Like  Voltaire,  he  was  unconsciously  jealous 
of,  and  for  that  reason  abused,  our  immortal  bard. 
His  mind  was  absorbed  in  detecting  Shakspeare's 
glaring  defects,  instead  of  being  overpowered  by  his 
wonderful  creative  and  redeeming  genius.  He  assured 
me  that  he  was  so  far  from  being  a  "  heaven-born 
poet "  that  he  was  not  conscious  of  possessing  any 
talent  in  that  way  when  a  boy.  This  gift  had  burst 
upon  his  mind  unexpectedly,  as  if  by  inspiration,  and 
had  excited  his  wonder.  He  also  declared  that  he  had 
no  love  or  enthusiasm  for  poetry.  I  shook  my  head 
doubtingly,  and  said  to  him  that,  although  he  had  dis- 
played a  piercing  sagacity  in  reading  and  developing 
the  characters  of  others,  he  knew  but  little  of  his  own. 

14 


2IO  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

He  replied  :  "  Often  have  I  told  you  that  I  am  a  perfect 
sceptic.  I  have  no  fixed  opinions  ;  that  is  my  character. 
Like  others,  I  am  not  in  love  with  what  I  possess,  but 
with  that  which  I  do  not  possess,  and  which  is  difficult 
to  obtain."  Lord  Byron  was  for  shining  as  a  hero  of 
the  first  order.  He  wished  to  take  an  active  part  in 
the  civil  and  military  government  of  Greece.*  On  this 
subject  he  consulted  me;  I  condemned  the  direct 
assumption  of  command  by  a  foreigner,  fearing  that 
it  would  expose  him  to  envy  and  danger  without  pro- 
moting the  cause.  I  wished  him,  by  a  career  of  perfect 
disinterestedness,  to  preserve  a  commanding  influence 
over  the  Greeks,  and  to  act  as  their  great  mediator. 
Lord  Byron  listened  to  me  with  unusual  and  courteous 
politeness,  for  he  suspected  my  motives — he  thought 
me  envious — jealous  of  his  increasing  power;  and 
though  he  did  not  disregard,  did  not  altogether  follow 
my  advice.  I  was  not,  however,  to  be  disarmed  either 
by  politeness  or  suspicions  ;  they  touched  me  not,  for 
my  mind  was  occupied  with  loftier  thoughts.  The 
attack  was  renewed  the  next  day  in  a  mild  tone.  The 
collision,  however,  of  Lord  Byron's  arguments,  spark- 
ling with  jests,  and  mine,  regardless  of  his  brilliancy 
and  satire,  all  earnestness,  ended  as  usual  in  a  storm. 
Though  most  anxious  to  assume  high  power.  Lord 
Byron  was  still  modest.  He  said  to  me,  laughing, 
that  if  Napier  came,  he  would  supersede  himself,  as 
Governor  and  Commander  of  Western  Greece,  in 
favour  of  that  distinguished  officer.  I  laughed  at  this 
whimsical  expression  till  I  made  Lord  Byron  laugh, 
too,  and  repeat  over  again  that  he  would  "  supersede 
himself." 

'  The  mind  of  Lord  Byron  was  like  a  volcano,  full  of 
fire  and  wealth,  sometimes  calm,  often  dazzling  and 
playful,  but  ever  threatening.  It  ran  swift  as  the 
lightning  from  one  subject  to  another,  and  occasionally 
burst  forth  in  passionate  throes  of  intellect,  nearly 
allied  to  madness.  A  striking  instance  of  this  sort  of 
eruption  I  shall  mention.  Lord  Byron's  apartments 
were  immediately  over  mine  at  Missolonghi.  In  the 
dead  of  the  night  I  was  frequently  startled  from  my 
sleep  by  the  thunders  of  his  lordship's   voice,  either 

*  This  must  be  taken  cum  'Jvano  salts. 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  BYRON         211 

raging  with  anger  or  roaring  with  laughter,  and  rousing 
friends,  servants,  and,  indeed,  all  the  inmates  of  the 
dwelling,  from  their  repose.  Even  when  in  the  utmost 
danger,  Lord  Byron  contemplated  death  with  calm 
philosophy.  He  was,  however,  superstitious,  and 
dreadfully  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  going  mad,  which  he 
predicted  would  be  his  sad  destiny. 

'As  a  companion,  no  one  could  be  more  amusing; 
he  had  neither  pedantry  nor  affectation  about  him,  but 
was  natural  and  playful  as  a  boy.  His  conversation 
resembled  a  stream,  sometimes  smooth,  sometimes 
rapid,  and  sometimes  rushing  down  in  cataracts ;  it 
was  a  mixture  of  philosophy  and  slang — of  everything 
— like  his  "  Don  Juan."  He  was  a  patient  and,  in 
general,  a  very  attentive  listener.  When,  however, 
he  did  engage  with  earnestness  in  conversation,  his 
ideas  succeeded  each  other  with  such  uncommon 
rapidity  that  he  could  not  control  them.  They  burst 
from  him  impetuously ;  and  although  he  both  at- 
tended to  and  noticed  the  remarks  of  others,  yet  he 
did  not  allow  these  to  check  his  discourse  for  an 
instant. 

'  Lord  Byron  professed  a  deep-rooted  antipathy  to 
the  English,  though  he  was  always  surrounded  by 
Englishmen,  and,  in  reality,  preferred  them  (as  he  did 
Italian  women)  to  all  others.  I  one  day  accused  him 
of  ingratitude  to  his  countrymen.  For  many  years,  I 
observed,  he  had  been,  in  spite  of  his  faults,  and 
although  he  had  shocked  all  her  prejudices,  the  pride, 
and  I  might  almost  say  the  idol,  of  Britain.  He  said 
they  must  be  a  stupid  race  to  worship  such  an  idol, 
but  he  had  at  last  cured  their  superstition,  as  far  as 
his  divinity  was  concerned,  by  the  publication  of  his 
"  Cain."  It  was  true,  I  replied,  that  he  had  now  lost 
their  favour.  This  remark  stung  him  to  the  soul,  for 
he  wished  not  only  to  occupy  the  public  mind,  but  to 
command,  by  his  genius,  public  esteem. 

'  This  extraordinary  person,  whom  everybody  was 
as  anxious  to  see,  and  to  know,  as  if  he  had  been  a 
Napoleon,  the  conqueror  of  the  world,  had  a  notion 
that  he  was  hated,  and  avoided  like  one  who  had 
broken  quarantine.  He  used  often  to  mention  to  me 
the  kindness  of  this  or  that  insignificant  individual,  for 
having  given  him  a  good  and  friendly  reception.     In 

14 — 2 


213  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

this  particular  Lord  Byron  was  capricious,  for  at 
Genoa  he  would  scarcely  see  anyone  but  those  who 
lived  in  his  own  family  ;  whereas  at  Cephalonia 
he  was  to  everyone  and  at  all  times  accessible.  At 
Genoa  he  acted  the  misanthropist ;  at  Cephalonia  he 
appeared  in  his  genuine  character,  doing  good,  and 
rather  courting  than  shunning  society. 

*  Lord  Byron  conceived  that  he  possessed  a  profound 
knowledge  of  mankind,  and  of  the  working  of  their 
passions.  In  this  he  judged  right.  He  could  fathom 
every  mind  and  heart  but  his  own,  the  extreme  depths 
of  which  none  ever  reached.  On  my  arrival  Irom 
England  at  Cephalonia,  his  lordship  asked  me  what 
new  publications  I  had  brought  out.  Among  others  I 
mentioned  "  The  Springs  of  Action."  "  Springs  of 
Action !"  said  Lord  Byron,  stamping  with  rage  with 
his  lame  foot,  and  then  turning  sharply  on  his  heel,  "  I 
don't  require  to  be  taught  on  this  head.  I  know  well 
what  are  the  springs  of  action."  Some  time  after- 
wards, while  speaking  on  another  subject,  he  desired 
me  to  lend  him  "  The  Springs  of  Action."  He 
then  suddenly  changed  the  conversation  to  some 
humorous  remarks  for  the  purpose  of  diverting  my 
attention.  I  could  not,  however,  forbear  remind- 
ing him  of  his  former  observations  and  his  furious 
stamp. 

'  Avarice  and  great  generosity  were  among  Lord 
Byron's  qualities ;  these  contrarieties  are  said  not  un- 
frequently  to  be  united  in  the  same  person.  As  an 
instance  of  Lord  Byron's  parsimony,  he  was  constantly 
attacking  Count  Gamba,  sometimes,  indeed,  playfully, 
but  more  often  with  the  bitterest  satire,  for  having 
purchased  for  the  use  of  his  family,  while  in  Greece, 
500  dollars'  worth  of  cloth.  This  he  used  to  mention 
as  an  instance  of  the  Count's  imprudence  and  extrav- 
agance. Lord  Byron  told  me  one  day,  with  a  tone 
of  great  gravity,  that  this  500  dollars  would  have 
been  most  serviceable  in  promoting  the  siege  of 
Lepanto  ;  and  that  he  never  would,  to  the  last  moment 
of  his  existence,  forgive  Gamba  for  having  squan- 
dered away  his  money  in  the  purchase  of  cloth.  No 
one  will  suppose  that  Lord  Byron  could  be  serious 
in  such  a  denunciation  ;  he  entertained,  in  reality,  the 
highest  opinion  of  Count  Gamba,  who  both  on  account 


BYRON'S  GENEROSITY  213 

of  his  talents  and  devotedness  to  his  friend  merited 
his  lordship's  esteem. 

*  Lord  Byron's  generosity  is  before  the  world ;  he 
promised  to  devote  his  large  income  to  the  cause  of 
Greece,  and  he  honestly  acted  up  to  his  pledge.  It 
was  impossible  for  Lord  Byron  to  have  made  a  more 
useful,  and  therefore  a  more  noble,  sacrifice  of  his 
wealth,  than  by  devoting  it,  ivith  discretion,  to  the 
Greek  cause.  He  set  a  bright  example  to  the  million- 
aires of  his  ovv'n  country,  who  certainly  show  but  little 
public  spirit.  Most  of  them  expend  their  fortunes  in 
acts  of  ostentation  or  selfishness.  Few  there  are  of 
this  class  who  will  devote,  perchance,  the  hundredth 
part  of  their  large  incomes  to  acts  of  benevolence  or 
bettering  the  condition  of  their  fellow-men.  None  of 
our  millionaires,  with  all  their  pride  and  their  boasting 
have  had  the  public  virtue,  like  Lord  Byron,  to  sacrifice 
their  incomes  or  their  lives  in  aid  of  a  people  struggling 
for  liberty, 

*  Lord  Byron's  reading  was  desultory,  but  extensive  ; 
his  memory  was  retentive  to  an  extraordinary  extent. 
He  was  partial  to  the  Italian  poets,  and  is  said  to  have 
borrowed  from  them.  Their  fine  thoughts  he  certainly 
associated  with  his  own,  but  with  such  skill  that  he 
could  not  be  accused  of  plagiarism.  Lord  Byron 
possessed,  indeed,  a  genius  absolutely  boundless,  and 
could  create  with  such  facihty  that  it  would  have  been 
irksome  to  him  to  have  become  a  servile  imitator. 
He  was  original  in  all  things,  but  especially  as  a 
poet. 

'  The  study  of  voyages  and  travels  was  that  in  which 
he  most  delighted  ;  their  details  he  seemed  actually  to 
devour.  He  would  sit  up  all  night  reading  them. 
His  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in  these  adventures,  and 
he  appeared  to  personify  the  traveller.  Lord  Byron 
had  a  particular  aversion  to  business  ;  his  familiar 
letters  were  scrawled  out  at  a  great  rate,  and  resembled 
his  conversations.  Rapid  as  were  his  tongue  and  his 
pen,  neither  could  keep  pace  with  the  quick  succession 
of  ideas  that  flashed  across  his  mind.  He  hated  nothing 
more  than  writing  formal  official  letters  ;  this  drudgery 
he  would  generally  put  off  from  day  to  day,  and  finish 
by  desiring  Count  Gamba,  or  some  other  friend,  to 
perform  the  task.     No  wonder  that  Lord  Byron  should 


214     BYRON  :  THE  LAST  PHASE 

dislike  this  dry  antipoetic  work,  and  which  he,  in 
reality,  performed  with  so  much  difficulty.  Lord 
Byron's  arduous  yet  unsuccessful  labours  in  this 
barren  field  put  me  in  mind  of  the  difficulty  which  one 
of  the  biographers  of  Addison  describes  this  politician 
to  have  experienced,  when  attempting  to  compose 
an  official  paragraph  for  the  Gazette  announcing  the 
death  of  the  Queen.  This  duty,  after  a  long  and 
ineffectual  attempt,  the  Minister,  in  despair,  handed 
over  to  a  clerk,  who  (not  being  a  genius,  but  a  man  of 
business)  performed  it  in  an  instant. 

*  Not  less  was  Lord  Byron's  aversion  to  reading  than 
to  writing  official  documents  ;  these  he  used  to  hand 
over  to  me,  pretending,  spite  of  all  my  protestations  to 
the  contrary,  that  I  had  a  passion  for  documents.  When 
once  Lord  Byron  had  taken  any  whim  into  his  head,  he 
listened  not  to  contradiction,  but  went  on  laughing  and 
satirizing  till  his  joke  had  triumphed  over  argument 
and  fact.  Thus  I,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  was  sometimes 
silent,  and  suffered  him  to  good-naturedly  bully  me 
into  reading  over,  or,  rather,  yawning  over,  a  mass  of 
documents  dull  and  uninteresting. 

*  Lord  Byron  once  told  me,  in  a  humorous  tone, 
but  apparently  quite  in  earnest,  that  he  never  could 
acquire  a  competent  knowledge  of  arithmetic.  Addition 
and  subtraction  he  said  he  could,  though  with 
some  difficulty,  accomplish.  The  mechanism  of  the 
rule  of  three  pleased  him,  but  then  division  was  a 
puzzle  he  could  not  muster  up  sufficient  courage  to 
unravel.  I  mention  this  to  show  of  how  low  a  cast 
Lord  Byron's  capacity  was  in  some  commonplace 
matters,  where  he  could  not  command  attention.  The 
reverse  was  the  case  on  subjects  of  a  higher  order,  and 
in  those  trifling  ones,  too,  that  pleased  his  fancj'-.  Moved 
by  such  themes,  the  impulses  of  his  genius  shot  forth, 
by  day  and  night,  from  his  troubled  brain,  electric 
sparks  or  streams  of  light,  like  blazing  meteors. 

*  Lord  Byron  loved  Greece.  Her  climate  and  her 
scenery,  her  history,  her  struggles,  her  great  men  and 
her  antiquities,  he  admired.  He  declared  that  he  had 
no  mastery  over  his  own  thoughts.  In  early  youth  he 
was  no  poet,  nor  was  he  now,  except  when  the  fit  was 
upon  him,  and  he  felt  his  mind  agitated  and  feverish. 
These  attacks,  he  continued,  scarcely  ever  visited  him 


THE  FUNERAL  PROCESSION  215 

anywhere  but  in  Greece ;  there  he  felt  himself  ex- 
hilarated— metamorphosed  into  another  person,  and 
with  another  soul — in  short,  never  had  he,  but  in 
Greece,  written  one  good  line  of  poetry.  This  is  a  fact 
exaggerated,  as  facts  often  are,  by  the  impulses  of  strong 
feelings.  It  is  not  on  that  account  less  calculated  to 
convey  to  others  the  character  of  Lord  Byron's  mind, 
or  to  impress  it  the  less  upon  their  recollections. 

*  Once  established  at  Missolonghi,  it  required  some 
great  impetus  to  move  Lord  Byron  from  that  unhealthy 
swamp.  On  one  occasion,  when  irritated  by  the  Suliotes 
and  the  constant  applications  for  money,  he  intimated 
his  intention  to  depart.  The  citizens  of  Missolonghi 
and  the  soldiers  grumbled,  and  communicated  to  me, 
through  Dr.  Meyer,  their  discontent.  I  repeated  what 
I  had  heard  to  'Lord  Byron.  He  replied,  calmly,  that 
he  would  rather  be  cut  to  pieces  than  imprisoned,  for 
he  came  to  aid  the  Greeks  in  their  struggle  for  liberty, 
and  not  to  be  their  slave.  No  wonder  that  the  "  Hel- 
lenists" endeavoured  to  impede  Lord  Byron's  departure, 
for  even  I,  a  mere  soldier,  could  not  escape  from  Mis- 
solonghi, Athens,  Corinth,  or  Salona,  without  consider- 
able difficulty.  Some  time  previous  to  Lord  Byron's 
death,  he  began  to  feel  a  restlessness  and  a  wish  to 
remove  to  Athens  or  to  Zante.' 

On  Monday,  July  12,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, the  funeral  procession,  attended  by  a  great  number 
of  carriages  and  by  crowds  of  people,  left  No.  20,  Great 
George  Street,  Westminster,  and,  passing  the  Abbey, 
moved  slowly  to  St.  Pancras  Gate.  Here  a  halt  was 
made ;  the  carriages  returned,  and  the  hearse  proceeded 
by  slow  stages  to  Nottingham. 

The  Mayor  and  Corporation  of  Nottingham  now 
joined  the  funeral  procession.  Mr.  Hobhouse,  who 
attended,  tells  us  that  the  cortege  extended  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and,  moving  very  slowly,  was  five 
hours  on  the  road  to  Hucknall-Torkard. 

'The  view  of  it  as  it  wound  through  the  villages 
of  Papplewick  and  Lindlay  excited  sensations  in  me 


2i6  BYRON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

which  will  never  be  forgotten.  As  we  passed  under 
the  Hill  of  Annesley,  "crowned  with  the  peculiar 
diadem  of  trees  "  immortalized  by  Byron,  I  called  to 
mind  a  thousand  particulars  of  my  first  visit  to  New- 
stead.  It  was  dining  at  Annesley  Park  that  I  saw  the 
first  interview  of  Byron,  after  a  long  interval,  with  his 
early  love,  Mary  Anne  Chaworth. 

*  The  churchyard  and  the  little  church  of  Hucknall 
were  so  crowded  that  it  was  with  difficulty  we  could 
follow  the  coffin  up  the  aisle.  The  contrast  between 
the  gorgeous  decorations  of  the  coffin  and  the  urn, 
and  the  humble  village  church,  was  very  striking.  I 
was  told  afterwards  that  the  place  was  crowded  until 
a  late  hour  in  the  evening,  and  that  the  vault  was  not 
closed  until  the  next  morning. 

'  I  should  mention  that  I  thought  Lady  Byron  ought 
to  be  consulted  respecting  the  funeral  of  her  husband  ; 
and  I  advised  Mrs.  Leigh  to  write  to  her,  and  ask  what 
her  wishes  might  be.  Her  answer  was,  if  the  deceased 
had  left  no  instructions,  she  thought  the  matter  might 
be  left  to  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Hobhouse.  There  was 
a  postscript,  saying,  "  If  you  like  you  may  show  this."  ' 

Hobhouse  concludes  his  account  with  these  words : 

'  I  was  present  at  the  marriage  of  this  lady  with  my 
friend,  and  handed  her  into  the  carriage  which  took 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  away.  Shaking  hands  with 
Lady  Byron,  I  wished  her  all  happiness.  Her  answer 
was  :  "  If  I  am  not  happy,  it  will  be  my  own  fault." ' 


PART    II 

WHAT  THE   POEMS   rAVeAL 

'  Intesi,  che  a  cosi  fatto  tormento 
Enno  dannati  i  peccator  carnali 
Che  la  ragion  sommettono  al  talento.' 

Inferno,  Canto  V.,  37-39. 


WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

'  Every  author  in  some  degree  portrays  himself  in  his  works,  even 
be  it  against  his  will.' — Goethe. 

Lady  Byron  has  expressed  her  opinion  that  almost 
every  incident  in  Byron's  poems  was  drawn  from  his 
personal  experience.  In  a  letter  to  Lady  Anne  Bar- 
nard, written  two  years  after  the  separation,  she  says  : 

'  In  regard  to  [Byron's]  poetry,  egotism  is  the  vital 
principle  of  his  imagination,  which  it  is  difficult  for 
him  to  kindle  on  any  subject  with  which  his  own 
character  and  interests  are  not  identified  ;  but  by  the 
introduction  of  fictitious  incidents,  by  change  of  scene 
or  time,  he  has  enveloped  his  poetical  disclosures  in  a 
system  impenetrable  except  to  a  very  few.' 

Byron  himself  has  told  us  in  'Don  Juan'  that  his 
music  'has  some  mystic  diapasons,  with  much  which 
could  not  be  appreciated  in  any  manner  by  the 
uninitiated.'  In  a  letter  to  John  Murray  (August  23, 
1 821),  he  says:  'Almost  all  "Don  Juan"  is  real  life, 
either  my  own  or  from  people  I  knew.' 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  in  Byron's  poems 
some  of  the  mysterious  incidents  in  his  life  are  plainly 
revealed.  For  example,  '  Childe  Harold,'  '  The  Giaour,' 
'The  Bride  of  Abydos,'  'The  Corsair,'  'Lara,'  'The 
Dream,'  '  Manfred,'  '  Don  Juan,'  and  several  of  the 
smaller  pieces,  all  disclose  episodes  connected  with  his 
own  personal  experience.  In  the  so-called  '  Fugitive 
Pieces '  we  get  a  glimpse  of  his  school  life  and  friend- 

219 


220  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

ships;  his  pursuits  during  the  time  that  he  resided 
with  his  mother  at  Southwell ;  and  his  introduction  to 
Cambridge.  In  the  *  Hours  of  Idleness  '  we  are  intro- 
duced to  Mary  Chaworth,  after  her  marriage  and  the 
ruin  of  his  hopes. 

In  the  verse  *  Remembrance '  we  realize  that  the 
dawn  of  his  life  is  overcast.  We  see,  from  some  verses 
written  in  1808,  how,  three  years  after  that  marriage, 
he  was  still  the  victim  of  a  fatal  infatuation : 

'  I  deem'd  that  Time,  I  deem'd  that  Pride, 
Had  quench'd  at  length  my  boyish  flame  ; 
Nor  knew,  till  seated  by  thy  side. 

My  heart  in  all — save  hope — the  same.' 

After  lingering  for  three  months  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  woman  whom  he  so  unwisely  loved,  he 
finally  resolved  to  break  the  chain  : 

'  In  flight  I  shall  be  surely  wise. 

Escaping  from  temptation's  snare  ; 
I  cannot  view  my  Paradise 
Without  the  wish  of  dwelling  there.' 

When  about  to  leave  England,  in  vain  pursuit  of  the 
happiness  he  had  lost,  he  addresses  passionate  verses 
to  Mary  Chaworth  : 

'  And  I  must  from  this  land  be  gone. 
Because  I  cannot  love  but  one.' 

He  tells  her  that  he  has  had  love  passages  with 
another  woman,  in  the  vain  hope  of  destroying  the 
love  of  his  life  : 

*  But  some  unconquerable  spell 
Forbade  my  bleeding  breast  to  own 
A  kindred  care  for  aught  but  one.' 

He  wished  to  say  farewell,  but  dared  not  trust  him- 
self.    In  the  cantos  of  '  Childe  Harold,'  written  during 


THE  'THYRZA'  POEMS  221 

his  absence,  he  recurs  to  the  subject  nearest  to  his 
heart.     He  says  that  before  leaving  Newstead — 

'  Oft-times  in  his  maddest  mirthful  mood 
Strange  pangs  would  flash  along  Childe  Harold's  brow, 
As  if  the  memory  of  some  deadly  fetid 
Or  disappointed  passion  lurked  below  : 
But  this  none  knew,  nor  haply  cared  to  know.' 

He  mentions  his  mother,  from  whom  he  dreaded  to 
part,  and  his  sister  Augusta,  whom  he  loved,  but  had 
not  seen  for  some  time.  After  his  return  to  England 
in  181 1,  he  wrote  the  '  Thyrza '  poems,  and  added  some 
stanzas  to  *  Childe  Harold,'  wherein  he  expresses 
a  hope  that  the  separation  between  himself  and  Mary 
Chaworth  may  not  be  eternal.  He  then  pours  out  the 
sorrows  of  his  heart  to  B'rancis  Hodgson.  We  cannot 
doubt  that  the  *  Lines  written  beneath  a  Picture,' 
composed  at  Athens  in  January,  181 1, 

*  Dear  object  of  defeated  care  ! 
Though  now  of  Love  and  thee  bereft,' 

referred  to  Mary  Chaworth,  for  he  mentions  the  death- 
blow of  his  hope.  In  the  '  Epistle  to  a  Friend,'  Byron 
mentions  the  effect  which  a  chance  meeting  with  Mary 
had  upon  him,  causing  him  to  realize  that  '  Time  had 
not  made  him  love  the  less.' 

The  poems  that  have  puzzled  the  commentator  most 
were  those  which  Byron  addressed  to  '  Thyrza ' — 
a  mysterious  personage,  whose  identity  has  not 
hitherto  been  discovered.  The  present  writer  proposes 
to  enter  fully,  and,  he  hopes,  impartially,  into  the 
subject,  trusting  that  the  conclusions  at  which  he 
has  arrived  may  ultimately  be  endorsed  by  others 
who  have  given  their  serious  attention  to  the  question 
at  issue. 

In   any   attempt   to    unravel    the    mystery    of    the 


222  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

'  Thyrza  '  poems,  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider,  not 
only  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  written, 
but  also  those  associations  of  Byron's  youth  which 
inspired  a  love  that  endured  throughout  his  life. 

Byron's  attachment  to  his  distant  cousin,  Mary  Anne 
Chaworth,  is  well  known.  We  know  that  his  boyish 
love  was  not  returned,  and  that  the  young  heiress  of 
Annesley  married,  in  1805,  Mr.  John  Musters,  of 
Colwick,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Nottingham.  In 
order  to  account  for  these  love-poems,  it  has  been 
suggested  that,  subsequent  to  this  marriage,  Byron 
fell  in  love  with  some  incognita,  whose  identity  has 
never  been  established,  and  who  died  soon  after  his 
return  to  England  in  181 1. 

We  are  unable  to  concur  with  so  simple  a  solution 
of  the  mystery,  for  the  following  reasons  :  It  will 
be  remembered  that  shortly  after  Mary  Chaworth's 
marriage  Byron  entered  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
where  he  formed  a  romantic  attachment  to  a  young 
chorister,  named  Edleston,  whose  life  he  had  saved 
from  drowning.  Writing  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Pigot  on 
June  30,  1807,  Byron  says  : 

*  I  quit  Cambridge  with  very  little  regret,  because 
our  set  are  vanished,  and  my  musical  protege  (Edleston), 
before  mentioned,  has  left  the  choir,  and  is  stationed 
in  a  mercantile  house  of  considerable  eminence  in  the 
Metropolis.  You  may  have  heard  me  observe  he  is, 
exactly  to  an  hour,  two  years  younger  than  myself. 
I  found  him  grown  considerably,  and,  as  you  may 
suppose,  very  glad  to  see  his  former  Patron*  He  is 
nearly  my  height,  very  thin,  very  fair  complexion,  dark 
eyes,  and  light  locks. 

'  My  opinion  of  his  mind  you  already  know ;  I  hope 
I  shall  never  have  occasion  to  change  it.' 

*  They  appear  to  have  met  accidentally  in  Trinity  Walks  a  few 
days  earlier.  Edleston  did  not  at  first  recognize  Byron,  who  had 
grown  so  thin. 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  EDLESTON         223 

On  July  5,  1807,  Byron  again  wrote  to  Miss  Pigot : 

'  At  this  moment  I  write  witli  a  bottle  of  claret  in 
my  head  and  tears  in  my  eyes  ;  for  I  have  just  parted 
with  my  "Cornelian,"*  who  spent  the  evening  with 
me.  As  it  was  our  last  interview,  I  postponed  my 
engagement  to  devote  the  hours  of  the  Sabbath  to 
friendship :  Edleston  and  I  have  separated  for  the 
present,  and  my  mind  is  a  chaos  of  hope  and  sorrow. 
...  I  rejoice  to  hear  3^ou  are  interested  in  vc^y  protege  ; 
he  has  been  ray  almost  constant  ^ssocmiQ  since  October, 
1805,  when  I  entered  Trinity  College.  His  voice  first 
attracted  my  attention,  his  countenance  fixed  it,  and  his 
manner  attached  me  to  him  for  ever.  He  departs  for 
a  mercantile  house  in  Town  in  October,  and  we  shall 
probably  not  meet  till  the  expiration  of  my  minority, 
when  I  shall  leave  to  his  decision,  either  entering  as 
a  partner  through  my  interest,  or  residing  with  me 
altogether.  Of  course  he  would,  in  his  present  frame 
of  mind,  prefer  the  latter,  but  he  may  alter  his  opinion 
previous  to  that  period  ;  however,  he  shall  have  his 
choice.  I  certainly  love  him  more  than  any  human 
being,  and  neither  time  nor  distance  have  had  the  least 
effect  on  my  (in  general)  changeable  disposition.  In 
short,  we  shall  put  Lady  E.  Butler  and  Miss  Ponsonby 
(the  "  Ladies  of  Llangollen,"  as  they  were  called)  to 
the  blush,  Pylades  and  Orestes  out  of  countenance, 
and  want  nothing  but  a  catastrophe  like  Nisus  and 
Euryalus,  to  give  Jonathan  and  David  the  "go  by." 
He  certainly  is  perhaps  more  attached  to  me  than  even 
I  am  in  return.  During  the  whole  of  my  residence  at 
Cambridge  we  met  every  day,  summer  and  winter, 
without  passing  one  tiresome  moment,  and  separated 
each  time  with  increasing  reluctance,  I  hope  you 
will  one  day  see  us  together.  He  is  the  only  being  I 
esteem,  though  I  like  many.' 

This  letter  shows  the  depth  of  the  boyish  affection  that 
had  sprung  up  between  two  lads  with  little  experience 
of  life.  The  attachment  on  both  sides  was  sincere,  but 
not  more  so  than  many  similar  boy  friendships,  which, 

*  Edleston,  who  some  time  previously  had  given  Byron  a  'Cor- 
nelian '  as  a  parting  gift  on  leaving  Cambridge  for  the  vacation. 


224  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

alas !  fade  away  under  the  chilling  influences  of  time 
and  circumstance.  In  this  case  the  'Cornelian  Heart' 
that  had  sparkled  with  the  tears  of  Edleston,  and  which, 
in  the  fervour  of  his  feelings,  Byron  had  suspended 
round  his  neck,  was,  not  long  afterwards,  transferred 
to  Miss  Elizabeth  Pigot. 

A  vague  notion  seems  to  prevail  that  the  inspiration 
of  these  '  Thyrza '  poems  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
Edleston.  This  idea  seems  to  have  arisen  from  Byron's 
allusion  to  a  pledge  of  affection  given  in  better  days  : 

'  Thou  bitter  pledge  !  thou  mournful  token  !' 

We  cannot  accept  this  theory,  being  of  opinion,  not 
lightly  formed,  that  the  '  bitter  pledge '  referred  to  had 
a  far  deeper  and  a  more  lasting  significance  than  ever 
could  have  belonged  to  '  the  Cornelian  heart  that  was 
broken.' 

In  later  years,  it  will  be  remembered,  Byron  told 
Medwin  that,  shortly  after  his  arrival  at  Cambridge, 
he  fell  into  habits  of  dissipation,  in  order  to  drown  the 
remembrance  of  a  hopeless  passion  for  Mary  Chaworth. 
That  Mary  Chaworth  held  his  affections  at  that  time 
is  beyond  question.  She  also  had  given  Byron  *  a 
token,'  which  was  still  in  his  possession  when  the 
'  Thyrza '  poems  were  written  ;  whereas  Edleston's  gift 
had  passed  to  other  hands.  The  following  anecdote, 
related  by  the  Countess  Guiccioli,  may  be  accepted  on 
Byron's  authority : 

'One  day  (while  Byron  and  Musters  were  bathing 
in  the  Trent — a  river  that  runs  through  the  grounds 
of  Colwick)  Mr,  Musters  perceived  a  ring  among  Lord 
Byron's  clothes,  left  on  the  bank.  To  see  and  take 
possession  of  it  was  the  affair  of  a  moment.  Musters 
had  recognized  it  as  having  belonged  to  Miss  Chaworth. 
Lord  Byron  claimed  it,  but  Musters  would  not  restore 
the  ring.    High  words  were  exchanged.    On  returning 


THE  'THYRZA'  POEMS  225 

to  the  house,  Musters  jumped  on  a  horse,  and  galloped 
off  to  ask  an  explanation  from  Miss  Chaworth,  who, 
being  forced  to  confess  that  Lord  Byron  wore  the 
ring  with  her  consent,  felt  obliged  to  make  amends 
to  Musters,  by  promising  to  declare  immediately  her 
engagement  with  him.' 

It  is  therefore  probable  that  the  'dear  simple  gift,' 
of  the  first  draft,  was  the  ring  which  Mary  Chaworth 
had  given  to  her  boy  lover  in  1804,  and  that  the  words 
we  have  quoted  had  no  connection  whatever  with 
young  Edleston. 

Assuming  that  the  '  Thyrza '  poems  were  addressed 
to  a  woman — and  there  is  abundant  proof  of  this — it  is 
remarkable  that,  neither  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
correspondence  with  his  friends,  nor  from  any  source 
whatever,  can  any  traces  be  found  of  any  other  serious 
attachment  which  would  account  for  the  poems  in 
question.  Between  the  date  of  the  marriage,  in  1805, 
and  the  autumn  of  1808,  Byron  and  Mary  Chaworth 
had  not  met.  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  autumn 
— only  eight  months  before  he  left  England  with  Hob- 
house — Byron  met  Mary  Chaworth  at  dinner  in  her 
own  home.  The  effect  of  that  meeting,  which  he  has 
himself  described,  shows  the  depth  of  his  feelings,  and 
precludes  the  idea  that  he  could  at  that  time  have 
been  deeply  interested  in  anyone  else.  After  that 
meeting  Byron  remained  three  months  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Annesley ;  and  it  may  be  inferred  that  an 
intimacy  sprang  up  between  them,  which  was  broken 
off  somewhat  abruptly  by  Mary's  husband.  There  are 
traces  of  this  in  *  Lara.' 

At  the  end  of  November,  1808,  Byron  writes  from 
Newstead  to  his  sister : 

'  I  am  living  here  alone,  which  suits  my  inclination 
better  than  society  of  any  kind.   ...     I  am  a  very 

15 


226  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

unlucky  fellow,  for  I  think  I  had  naturally  not  a  bad 
heart ;  but  it  has  been  so  bent,  twisted,  and  trampled 
on,  that  it  has  now  become  as  hard  as  a  Highlander's 
heelpiece.' 

A  fortnight  later  he  writes  to  Hanson,  his  agent, 
and  talks  of  either  marrying  for  money  or  blowing 
his  brains  out.  It  was  then  that  he  wrote  those  verses 
addressed  to  Mary  Chaworth  : 

'  When  man,  expell'd  from  Eden's  bowers, 
A  moment  linger'd  near  the  gate, 
Each  scene  recall'd  the  vanish'd  hours, 
And  bade  him  curse  his  future  fate. 

'  In  flight  I  shall  be  surely  wise, 

Escaping  from  temptation's  snare  ; 
I  cannot  view  my  Paradise 
Without  the  wish  of  dwelling  there.' 

On  January  25,  1809,  Byron  returned  to  London. 
It  is  hard  to  believe  that  during  those  three  months 
Byron  did  not  often  meet  the  lady  of  his  love.  It  is 
more  than  probable  that  the  old  friendship  between 
them  had  been  renewed,  since  there  is  evidence  to 
prove  that,  after  Byron  had  taken  his  seat  in  the 
House  of  Lords  on  March  13,  1809,  he  confided  his 
Parliamentary  robes  to  Mary  Chaworth's  safe-keeping, 
a  circumstance  which  suggests  a  certain  amount  of 
neighbourly  friendship. 

In  May,  Byron  again  visited  Newstead,  where  he 
entertained  Matthews  and  some  of  his  college  friends. 
That  serenade  indiscrete^ 

'  'Tis  done — and  shivering  in  the  gale,' 

which  was  addressed  to  Mary  Chaworth  from  Fal- 
mouth on,  or  about,  June  22,  shows  the  state  of  his 
feelings  towards  her;  but  she  does  not  seem  to  have 
given  him  any  encouragement,  and  there  was  no  cor- 


I 


DEATH  OF  MRS.  BYRON  227 

respondence  between  them  during  Byron's  absence 
from  England.  Between  July  2,  1809,  and  July  15, 
181 1,  Byron's  thoughts  were  fully  occupied  in  other 
directions.  His  distractions,  which  may  be  traced  in 
his  writings,  were,  however,  not  sufficient  to  crush 
out  the  remembrance  of  that  fatal  infatuation.  When, 
in  181 1,  he  returned  to  England,  it  was  without  pleasure, 
and  without  the  faintest  hope  of  any  renewal  of  an 
intimacy  which  Mary  Chaworth  had  broken  off  for 
both  their  sakes.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  visit  New- 
stead,  where  his  mother  anxiously  awaited  him,  and 
dawdled  about  town,  under  various  pretexts,  until  the 
first  week  in  August,  when  he  heard  of  his  mother's 
serious  illness.  Before  Byron  reached  Newstead  his 
mother  had  died.  He  seems  to  have  heard  of  her 
illness  one  day,  and  of  her  death  on  the  day  following. 
Although  there  had  long  been  a  certain  estrangement 
between  them,  all  was  now  forgotten,  and  Byron  felt 
his  mother's  death  acutely. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Scrope 
Davies  : 

'  Some  curse  hangs  over  me  and  mine.  My  mother 
lies  a  corpse  in  this  house  ;  one  of  my  best  friends 
(Charles  Skinner  Matthews)  is  drowned  in  a  ditch. 
What  can  I  say,  or  think,  or  do  ?  I  received  a  letter 
from  him  the  day  before  yesterday.  .  .  .  Come  to  me, 
Scrope;  I  am  almost  desolate — left  almost  alone  in  the 
world.' 

In  that  gloomy  frame  of  mind,  in  the  solitude  of  a 
ruin — for  Newstead  at  that  time  was  but  little  better 
than  a  ruin — Byron,  on  August  12,  drew  up  some 
directions  for  his  will,  in  which  he  desired  to  be  buried 
in  the  garden  at  Newstead,  by  the  side  of  his  favourite 
dog  Boatswain. 

On   the   same   day   he   wrote   to   Dallas,   who  was 

15—2 


228  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

superintending  the  printing  of  the  first  and   second 
cantos  of  '  Childe  Harold  ': 

*  Peace  be  with  the  dead  !  Regret  cannot  wake 
them.  With  a  sigh  to  the  departed,  let  us  resume  the 
dull  business  of  life,  in  the  certainty  that  we  also  shall 
have  our  repose.  Besides  her  who  gave  me  being,  I 
have  lost  more  than  one  who  made  that  being  tolerable. 
Matthews,  a  man  of  the  first  talents,  and  also  not  the 
worst  of  my  narrow  circle,  has  perished  miserably  in 
the  muddy  waves  of  the  Cam,  always  fatal  to  genius ; 
my  poor  schoolfellow,  Wingfield,  at  Coimbra — within 
a  month;  and  whilst  I  had  heard  from  all  three^  but  not 
seen  one.  .  .  .  But  let  this  pass ;  we  shall  all  one  day 
pass  along  with  the  rest.  The  world  is  too  full  of  such 
things,  and  our  very  sorrow  is  selfish.  ...  I  am 
already  too  familiar  with  the  dead.  It  is  strange  that 
I  look  on  the  skulls  which  stand  beside  me  (I  have 
always  had  four  in  my  study)  without  emotion,  but  I 
cannot  strip  the  features  of  those  I  have  known  of 
their  fleshy  covering,  even  in  idea,  without  a  hideous 
sensation ;  but  the  worms  are  less  ceremonious. 
Surely,  the  Romans  did  well  when  they  burned  the 
dead.' 

The  writer  of  this  letter  was  in  his  twenty-fourth 
year! 

Ten  days  later  Byron  writes  to  Hodgson  : 

*  Indeed  the  blows  followed  each  other  so  rapidly 
that  I  am  yet  stupid  from  the  shock ;  and  though  I  do 
eat,  and  drink,  and  talk,  and  even  laugh  at  times,  yet  I 
can  hardly  persuade  myself  that  I  am  awake,  did  not 
every  morning  convince  me  mournfully  to  the  contrary. 
I  shall  now  waive  the  subject,  the  dead  are  at  rest,  and 
none  but  the  dead  can  be  so.  .  .  .  I  am  solitary,  and 
I  never  felt  solitude  irksome  before.' 

At  about  the  same  date,  in  a  letter  to  Dallas,  Byron 
writes  : 

'  At  three-and-twenty  I  am  left  alone,  and  what  more 
can  we  be  at  seventy  ?  It  is  true  I  am  young  enough 
to  begin  again,  but  with  whom  can  I  retrace  the  laugh- 


HAUNTING  MEMORIES  229 

ing  part  of  my  life?     It  is  odd  how  few  of  my  friends 
have  died  a  quiet  death — I  mean,  in  their  beds  ! 

'  I  cannot  settle  to  anything,  and  my  days  pass,  with 
the  exception  of  bodily  exercise  to  some  extent,  with 
uniform  mdolence  and  idle  insipidity.' 

The  verses,  '  Oh  !  banish  care,'  etc.,  were  written  at 
this  time. 

In  the  following  lines  we  see  that  his  grief  at  the 
losses  he  had  sustained  was  deepened  by  the  haunting 
memory  of  Mary  Chaworth  : 

'  I've  seen  my  bride  another's  bride — 
Have  seen  her  seated  by  his  side — 
Have  seen  the  infant  which  she  bore 
Wear  the  sweet  smile  the  mother  wore, 
When  she  and  I  in  youth  have  smiled 
As  fond  and  faultless  as  her  child  ; 
Have  seen  her  e3'es,  in  cold  disdain, 
Ask  if  I  felt  no  secret  pain. 
And  I  have  acted  well  my  part, 
And  made  my  cheek  belie  my  heart. 
Returned  the  freezing  glance  she  gave, 
Yet  felt  the  while  that  woman's  slave  ; 
Have  kissed,  as  if  without  design. 
The  babe  which  ought  to  have  been  mine. 
And  showed,  alas  !  in  each  caress 
Time  had  not  made  me  love  the  less.' 

Moore,  who  knew  more  of  the  inner  workings  of 
Byron's  mind  in  later  years  than  anyone  else,  has  told 
us  that  the  poems  addressed  to  *  Thyrza  '  were  merely 
*  the  abstract  spirit  of  many  griefs,'  and  that  the  pseu- 
donym was  given  to  an  '  object  of  affection '  to  whom 
he  poured  out  the  sorrows  of  his  heart. 

'All  these  recollections,'  says  Moore,  'of  the  young 
and  dead  now  came  to  mingle  themselves  in  his  mind 
with  the  image  of  her  who,  though  livings  was  for  him 
as  much  lost  as  they,  and  diffused  that  general  feeling 
of  sadness  and  fondness  through  his  soul,  which  found 
a  vent  in  these  poems.     No  friendship,  however  warm, 


230  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

could  have  inspired  sorrow  so  passionate ;  as  no  love, 
however  pure,  could  have  kept  passion  so  chastened. 

'  It  was  the  blending  of  the  two  affections  in  his 
memory  and  imagination  that  thus  gave  birth  to  an 
ideal  object  combining  the  best  features  of  both,  and 
drew  from  him  these  saddest  and  tenderest  of  love- 
poems,  in  which  we  find  all  the  depth  and  intensity  of 
real  feeling,  touched  over  with  such  a  light  as  no  reality 
ever  wore.' 

Moore  here  expresses  himself  guardedly.  He  was 
one  of  the  very  few  who  knew  the  whole  story  of 
Mary  Chaworth's  associations  with  Byron.  He  could 
not,  of  course,  betray  his  full  knowledge ;  but  he  has 
made  it  sufficiently  clear  that  Byron,  in  writing  the 
'  Thyrza '  group  of  poems,  was  merely  strewing  the 
flowers  of  poetry  on  the  grave  of  his  love  for  Mary 
Chaworth. 

The  first  of  these  poems  was  written  on  the  day  on 
which  he  heard  of  the  death  of  Edleston.  In  a  letter 
to  Dallas  he  says  : 

*  I  have  been  again  shocked  by  a  death,  and  have  lost 
one  very  dear  to  me  in  happier  times.  I  have  become 
callous,  nor  have  I  a  tear  left  for  an  event  which,  five 
years  ago,  would  have  bowed  down  my  head  to  the 
earth.  It  seems  as  though  I  were  to  experience  in  my 
youth  the  greatest  misery  of  age.  My  friends  fall 
around  me,  and  I  shall  be  left  a  lonely  tree  before  I 
am  withered.  Other  men  can  always  take  refuge  in 
their  families  ;  I  have  no  resource  but  my  own  reflec- 
tions, and  they  present  no  prospect  here  or  hereafter, 
except  the  selfish  satisfaction  of  surviving  my  betters. 
I  am  indeed  very  wretched,  and  you  will  excuse 
my  saying  so,  as  you  know  I  am  not  apt  to  cant  of 
sensibility.'* 

Shortly  after  this  letter  was  written  Byron  visited 
Cambridge,  where,  among  the  many  memories  which 

*  Edleston  had  died  five  months  before  Byron  heard  the  sad 
news. 


THE  CORNELIAN  HEART  231 

that   place   awakened,  a  remembrance   of  the  young 

chorister  and  their  ardent  friendship  was  most  vivid. 

Byron  recollected  the  Cornelian  that  Edleston  gave 

him  as  a  token  of  friendship,  and,  now  that  the  giver 

had  passed  away  for  ever,  he  regretted  that  he  had 

parted  with   it.     The  following  letter  to  Mrs.   Pigot 

explains  itself: 

'  Cambridge, 

'Odober  28,  1811. 
'  Dear  Madam, 

'  I  am  about  to  write  to  you  on  a  silly  subject, 
and  yet  I  cannot  well  do  otherwise.  You  may  remem- 
ber a  coriielian  which  some  years  ago  I  consigned  to 
Miss  Pigot  —  indeed  I  gave  to  her  —  and  now  I  am 
going  to  make  the  most  selfish  and  rude  of  requests. 
The  person  who  gave  it  to  me,  when  I  was  very 
young,  is  dead,  and  though  a  long  time  has  elapsed 
since  we  met,  as  it  was  the  only  memorial  I  possessed 
of  that  person  (in  whom  I  was  very  much  interested), 
it  has  acquired  a  value  by  this  event  I  could  have 
wished  it  never  to  have  borne  in  my  eyes.  If,  there- 
fore. Miss  Pigot  should  have  preserved  it,  I  must, 
under  these  circumstances,  beg  her  to  excuse  my  re- 
questing it  to  be  transmitted  to  me  at  No.  8,  St.  James' 
Street,  London,  and  I  will  replace  it  by  something  she 
may  remember  me  by  equally  well.  As  she  was 
always  so  kind  as  to  feel  interested  in  the  fate  of 
him  that  formed  the  subject  of  our  conversation,  you 
may  tell  her  that  the  giver  of  that  cornelian  died  in 
May  last  of  a  consumption  at  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
making  the  sixth,  within  four  months,  of  friends  and 
relatives  that  I  have  lost  between  May  and  the  end  of 
August. 

'  Believe  me,  dear  madam, 

'  Yours  very  sincerely, 

'  Byron.* 

The  cornelian  when  found,  was  returned  to  Byron, 
but  apparently  in  a  broken  condition. 

'  Ill-fated  Heart !  and  can  it  be, 
That  thou  shouldst  thus  be  rent  in  twain  ?' 


232  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

It  was  through  the  depressing  influence  of  solitude 
that  the  idea  entered  Byron's  mind  to  depict  his  (pos- 
sibly eternal)  separation  from  Mary  Chaworth  in  terms 
synonymous  with  death.  With  a  deep  feeling  of  deso- 
lation he  recalled  every  incident  of  his  boyish  love. 
We  have  seen  how  the  image  of  his  lost  Mary,  now 
the  wife  of  his  rival,  deepened  the  gloom  caused  by 
the  sudden  death  of  his  mother,  and  of  some  of  his 
college  friends.  It  was  to  Mary,  whom  he  dared  not 
name,  that  he  cried  in  his  agony  : 

'  By  many  a  shore  and  many  a  sea 
Divided,  yet  beloved  in  vain  ; 
The  Past,  the  Future  fled  to  thee, 
To  bid  us  meet — no,  ne'er  again  I' 

Her  absence  from  Annesley,  where  he  had  hoped  to 
find  her  on  his  return  home,  was  a  great  disappoint- 
ment to  him. 

'  Thou  too  art  gone,  thou  loved  and  lovely  one  ! 
Whom  Youth  and  Youth's  affections  bound  to  me ; 
Who  did  for  me  what  none  beside  have  done. 
Nor  shrank  from  one  albeit  unworthy  thee. 
What  is  my  Being  !  thou  hast  ceased  to  be  ! 
Nor  staid  to  welcome  here  thy  wanderer  home. 
Who  mourns  o'er  hours  which  we  no  more  shall  see — 
Would  they  had  never  been,  or  were  to  come  ! 
Would  he  had  ne'er  returned  to  find  fresh  cause  to  roam  ! 

'  Oh  !  ever  loving,  lovely,  and  beloved  ! 
How  selfish  Sorrow  ponders  on  the  past, 
And  clings  to  thoughts  now  better  far  removed  ! 
But  Time  shall  tear  thy  shadow  from  me  last. 
All  thou  couldst  have  of  mine,  stern  Death  !  thou  hast ; 
The  Parent,  Friend,  and  now  the  more  than  Friend  : 
Ne'er  yet  for  one  thine  arrows  flew  so  fast, 
And  grief  with  grief  continuing  still  to  blend. 
Hath  snatch'd  the  little  joy  that  Life  hath  yet  to  lend. 


THE  WANDERER  RETURNS     233 

What  is  the  worst  of  woes  that  wait  on  Age  ? 
What  stamps  the  wrinkle  deeper  on  the  brow  ? 
To  view  each  loved  one  blotted  from  Life's  page, 
And  be  alone  on  earth,  as  I  am  now. 
Before  the  Chastener  humbly  let  me  bow, 
O'er  Hearts  divided  and  o'er  Hopes  destroyed  : 
Roll  on,  vain  days  !  full  reckless  may  ye  flow. 
Since  Time  hath  reft  whate'er  my  soul  enjoyed, 
And  with  the  ills  of  Eld  mine  earlier  years  alloyed.' 

These  stanzas  were  attached  to  the  second  canto  of 
'Childe  Harold,'  after  that  poem  was  in  the  press. 
Mr.  Ernest  Hartley  Coleridge,  who  so  ably  edited  the 
latest  edition  of  the  poetry  of  Byron,  states  that  they 
were  sent  to  Dallas  on  the  same  day  that  Byron 
composed  the  poem  *  To  Thyrza.'  This  is  significant, 
as  also  his  attempt  to  mystify  Dallas  by  telling  him 
that  he  had  again  (October  11,  181 1)  been  shocked  by 
a  death.  This  was  true  enough,  for  he  had  on  that 
day  heard  of  the  death  of  Edleston  ;  but  it  was  not  true 
that  the  stanzas  we  have  quoted  had  any  connection 
with  that  event.     Mr.  Coleridge  in  a  note  says  : 

*  In  connection  with  this  subject,  it  may  be  noted 
that  the  lines  6  and  7  of  Stanza  XCV., 

'  "  Nor  staid  to  welcome  here  thy  wanderer  home, 

Who  mourns  o'er  hours  which  we  no  more  shall  see," 

do  not  bear  out  Byron's  contention  to  Dallas  (Letters, 
October  14  and  31, 18 11)  that  in  these  three  m  memoriam 
stanzas  (IX.,  XCV.,  XCVI.)  he  is  bewailing  an  event 
which  took  place  after  he  returned  to  Newstead.*  The 
*'  more  than  friend "  had  "  ceased  to  be "  before  the 
"  wanderer  "  returned.  It  is  evident  that  Byron  did 
not  take  Dallas  into  his  confidence.' 

Assuredly  he  did  not.  The  '  more  than  friend  '  was 
not  dead ;  she  had  merely  absented  herself,  and  did  not 

*  '  I  think  it  proper  to  state  to  you  that  this  stanza  alludes  to  an 
event:  which  has  taken  place  since  my  arrival  here,  and  not  to  the 
death  of  any  male  friend.' — Lord  Byron  to  Mr.  Dallas. 


234  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

stay  to  welcome  the  '  wanderer '  on  his  return  from 
his  travels.  She  was,  however,  dead  to  him  in  a  sense 
far  deeper  than  mere  absence  at  such  a  time. 

'  The  absent  are  the  dead — for  they  are  cold, 
And  ne'er  can  be  what  once  we  did  behold.'* 

Mary  Chaworth's  presence  would  have  consoled  him 
at  a  time  when  he  felt  alone  in  the  world.  He  feared 
that  she  was  lost  to  him  for  ever.  He  knew  her  too 
well  to  suppose  that  she  could  ever  be  more  to  him 
than  a  friend  ;  and  yet  it  was  just  that  female  sympathy 
and  friendship  for  which  he  so  ardently  yearned.  In 
his  unreasonableness,  he  was  both  hurt  and  dis- 
appointed that  this  companion  of  his  earlier  days 
should  have  kept  away  from  her  home  at  that  par- 
ticular time,  and  of  course  misconstrued  the  cause. 
With  the  feeling  that  this  parting  must  be  eternal,  he 
wished  that  they  could  have  met  once  more. 

'  Could  this  have  been — a  word,  a  look, 
That  softly  said,  "  We  part  in  peace," 
Had  taught  my  bosom  how  to  brook. 
With  fainter  sighs,  thy  soul's  release." ' 

In  the  bitterness  of  his  desolation  he  recalled  the 

days  when  they  were  at  Newstead  together — probably 

stolen  interviews,  which  find   no  place   in   history — 

when 

'  many  a  day 
In  these,  to  me,  deserted  towers. 
Ere  called  but  for  a  time  away, 
Affection's  mingling  tears  were  ours  ? 

*  That  this  Thyrza  was  no  passing  fancy  is  proved  by  Lord  Love- 
lace's statement  in  '  Astarte'  (p.  138) :  '  He  had  occasionally  spoken 
of  Thyrza  to  Lady  Byron,  at  Seaham  and  afterwards  in  London, 
always  with  slrong  but  contained  emotion.  He  once  showed  his  wife 
a  beautiful  tress  of  Thyrza's  hair,  but  never  mentioned  her  real 
name. 


MRS.  GEORGE  LAMB  235 

Ours,  too,  the  glance  none  saw  beside  ; 
The  smile  none  else  might  understand  ; 
The  whispered  thought ;  the  walks  aside  ; 
The  pressure  of  the  thrilling  hand  ; 
The  kiss  so  guiltless  and  refined. 
That  Love  each  warmer  wish  forbore  ; 
Those  eyes  proclaimed  so  pure  a  mind, 
Ev'n  Passion  blushed  to  plead  for  more. 
The  tone  that  taught  me  to  rejoice, 
When  prone,  unlike  thee,  to  repine  ; 
The  song,  celestial  from  thy  voice, 
But  sweet  to  me  from  none  but  thine ; 
The  pledge  we  wore — /  wear  it  still, 
But  where  is  thine  ?    Ah  !  where  art  thou  ? 
Oft  have  I  borne  the  weight  of  ill. 
But  never  bent  beneath  till  now  !' 

Six  days  after  these  lines  were  written  Byron  left 
Newstead.  Writing  to  Hodgson  from  his  lodgings  in 
St.  James's  Street,  he  enclosed  some  stanzas  which  he 
had  written  a  day  or  two  before, '  on  hearing  a  song  of 
former  days.'  The  lady,  whose  singing  now  so  deeply 
impressed  Byron,  was  the  Hon.  Mrs.  George  Lamb, 
whom  he  had  met  at  Melbourne  House. 

In  this,  the  second  of  the  '  Thyrza'  poems,  the  allusions 

to   Mary  Chaworth   are  even  more   marked.     Byron 

says  the  songs  of  Mrs.  George  Lamb  '  speak  to  him  of 

brighter  days,'  and  that  he  hopes  to  hear  those  strains 

no  more : 

'  For  now,  alas  ! 

I  must  not  think,  I  may  not  gaze. 
On  what  I  am — on  what  I  was. 

The  voice  that  made  those  sounds  more  sweet 
Is  hush'd,  and  all  their  charms  are  fled. 

***** 
'  On  my  ear 
The  well-remembered  echoes  thrill  ; 

I  hear  a  voice  I  would  not  hear, 
A  voice  that  now  might  well  be  still. 

***** 


236  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

'  Sweet  Thyrza  !  waking  as  in  sleep, 

Thou  art  but  nowia  lovely  dream  ; 
A  Star  that  trembled  o'er  the  deep, 

Then  turned  from  earth  its  tender  beam. 
But  he  who  through  Life's  dreary  way 

Must  pass,  when  Heaven  is  veiled  in  wrath, 
Will  long  lament  the  vanished  ray 

That  scattered  gladness  o'er  his  path.' 

In  Byron's  imagination  Mary  Chaworth  was  always 
hovering  over  him  like  a  star.  She  was  the  '  starlight 
of  his  boyhood,'  the  *  star  of  his  destiny,'  and  three 
years  later  the  poet,  in  his  unpublished  fragment 
*  Harmodia,'  speaks  of  Mary  as  his 

'  melancholy  star 
Whose  tearful  beam  shoots  trembling  from  afar.' 

The  third  and  last  of  the  '  Thyrza  *  poems  must  have 
been  written  at  about  the  same  time  as  the  other  two. 
It  appeared  with  '  Childe  Harold'  in  1812.  Byron, 
weary  of  the  gloom  of  solitude,  and  tortured  by  'pangs 
that  rent  his  heart  in  twain,'  now  determined  to  break 
away  and  seek  inspiration  for  that  mental  energy  which 
formed  part  of  his  nature.  Man,  he  says,  was  not 
made  to  live  alone. 

'  I'll  be  that  light  unmeaning  thing 

That  smiles  with  all,  and  weeps  with  none. 

It  was  not  thus  in  days  more  dear, 
It  never  would  have  been,  but  thou 

Hast  fled,  and  left  me  lonely  here.' 

Byron's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  days  when  he 
was  sailing  over  the  bright  waters  of  the  blue  ^Egean, 
in  the  Salsette  frigate,  commanded  by  'good  old 
Bathurst  '* — those  halcyon  days  when  he  was  weaving 
his  visions  into  stanzas  for  *  Childe  Harold.' 

*  Captain  (afterwards  Commodore)  Walter  Bathurst  was  mortally 
wounded  at  the  Battle  of  Navai-ino,  on  October  20, 1827. — '  Battles  of 
the  British  Navy,'  Joseph  Allen,  vol.  ii.,  p.  518. 


WHEN  LOVE  AND  LIFE  WERE  NEW    237 

'  On  many  a  lone  and  lovely  night 

It  soothed  to  gaze  upon  the  sky  ; 
For  then  I  deemed  the  heavenly  light 

Shone  sweetly  on  thy  pensive  eye  : 
And  oft  I  thought  at  Cynthia's  noon, 

When  sailing  o'er  the  -^Egean  wave, 
"  Now  Thyrza  gazes  on  that  moon" — 

Alas  !  it  gleamed  upon  her  grave  ! 

'  When  stretched  on  Fever's  sleepless  bed, 

And  sickness  shrunk  my  throbbing  veins, 
"  'Tis  comfort  still,"  I  faintly  said, 

"That  Thyrza  cannot  know  my  pains." 
Like  freedom  to  the  timeworn  slave — 

A  boon  'tis  idle  then  to  give — 
Relenting  Nature  vainly  gave 

My  life,  when  Thyrza  ceased  to  live  ! 

'  My  Thyrza's  pledge  in  better  days, 

When  Love  and  Life  alike  were  new  ! 
How  different  now  thou  meet'st  my  gaze  ! 

How  tinged  by  time  with  Sorrow's  hue ! 
The  heart  that  gave  itself  with  thee 

Is  silent — ah,  were  mine  as  still  ! 
Though  cold  as  e'en  the  dead  can  be, 

It  feels,  it  sickens  with  the  chill.' 

Byron  here  suggests  that  the  pledge  in  question  was 
given  with  the  giver's  heart.  Lovers  are  apt  to  inter- 
pret such  gifts  as  '  love-tokens,'  without  suspicion  that 
they  may  possibly  have  been  due  to  a  feeling  far  less 
flattering  to  their  hopes. 

'  Thou  bitter  pledge  !  thou  mournful  token  ! 
Though  painful,  welcome  to  my  breast ! 
Still,  still,  preserve  that  love  unbroken, 

Or  break  the  heart  to  which  thou'rt  pressed. 
Time  tempers  Love,  but  not  removes, 
More  hallowed  when  its  Hope  is  fied.' 

These  three  pieces  comprise  the  so-called  '  Thyrza ' 
poems,  and,  in  the  absence  of  proof  to  the  contrary, 
we  may  reasonably  suppose  that  their  subject  was 
Mary  Chaworth.     This  is  the  more  likely  because  the 


238  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

original  manuscripts  were  the  property  of  Byron's 
sister,  to  whom  they  were  probably  given  by  Mary 
Chaworth,  when,  in  later  years,  she  destroyed  or  parted 
with  all  the  letters  and  documents  which  she  had  re- 
ceived from  Byron  since  the  days  of  their  childhood. 

Byron  did  not  give  up  the  hope  of  winning  Mary 
Chaworth's  love  until  her  marriage  in  1805.  Two 
months  later  he  entered  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
and  from  that  time,  until  his  departure  with  Hobhouse 
on  his  first  foreign  tour,  those  who  were  in  constant 
intercourse  with  him  never  mentioned  any  other 
object  of  adoration  who  might  fit  in  with  the  Thyrza 
of  the  poems.  If  such  a  person  had  really  existed, 
Byron  would  certainly,  either  in  conversation  or  in 
writing,  have  disclosed  her  identity.  Moore  makes 
it  clear  that  the  one  passion  of  Byron's  life  was  Mary 
Chaworth.  He  tells  us  that  there  were  many  fleeting 
love-episodes,  but  only  one  passion  strong  enough  to 
have  inspired  the  poems  in  question.  If  Byron's  heart, 
during  the  two  years  that  he  passed  abroad,  had  been 
overflowing  with  love  for  some  incognita,  it  was  not  in 
his  nature  to  have  kept  silence.  From  his  well-known 
effusiveness,  reticence  under  such  circumstances  is 
inconceivable. 

Finally,  as  there  were  no  poems,  no  letters,  and  no 
allusion  to  any  such  person  in  the  firs^  draft  of  'Childe 
Harold,'  we  may  confidently  assume  that  the  poet,  in 
the  loneliness  of  his  heart,  appealed  to  the  only  woman 
whom  he  ever  really  loved,  and  that  the  legendary 
Thyrza  was  a  myth. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  ninth  stanza  in  the 
second  canto  of 'Childe  Harold'  was  interpolated  long 
after  the  manuscript  had  been  given  to  Dallas.  It  was 
forwarded  for  that  purpose,  three  days  after  the  date 


'     A  PERIOD  OF  DESOLATION  239 

of  the  poem  'To  Thyrza,'  and  essentially  belongs  to 
that  period  of  desolation  which  inspired  those  poems  : 

'  There,  Thou  !  whose  Love  and  Life,  together  fied, 
Have  left  me  here  to  love  and  live  in  vain — 
Twined  with  my  heart,  and  can  I  deem  thee  dead, 
When  busy  Memory  flashes  on  my  brain  ? 
Well — /  will  dream  that  we  may  meet  again, 
And  woo  the  vision  to  my  vacant  breast : 
If  aught  of  young  Remembrance  then  remain, 
Be  as  it  may  Futurity's  behest. 
Or  seeing  tliee  no  more,  to  sink  to  sullen  rest.'* 

It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  this  stanza  was  inspired 
by  a  memory  of  the  dead.  Are  we  not  told  that  '  Love 
and  Life  together  fled' — in  other  words,  when  Mary 
withdrew  her  love,  she  was  dead  to  him  ? 

He  tells  her  that  in  abandoning  him  she  has  left 
him  to  love  and  live  in  vain.  And  yet  he  will  not  give 
up  the  hope  of  meeting  her  again  some  day ;  this  is 
now  his  sole  consolation.  Memory  of  the  past  (pos- 
sibly those  meetings  which  took  place  by  stealth, 
shortly  before  his  departure  from  England  in  1809) 
feeds  the  hope  that  now  sustains  him.  But  he  will 
leave  everything  to  chance,  and  if  fate  decides  that 
they  shall  be  parted  for  ever,  then  will  he  sink  to 
sullen  apathy. 

We  may  remind  the  reader  that  at  this  period  (181 1) 
Byron  had  no  belief  in  any  existence  after  death. 

'  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  immortality,' 
he  writes  to  Hodgson  in  September ;  *  we  are  miser- 
able enough  in  this  life,  without  the  absurdity  of 
speculating  upon  another.  If  men  are  to  live,  why  die 
at  all  ?  and  if  they  die,  why  disturb  the  sweet  and 
sound  sleep  that  "  knows  no  waking  "  ? 

* "  Post  mortem  nihil  est,  ipsaque  Mors  nihil  .  .  . 
(quaeris  quo  jaceas  post  obitum  loco  ?  Quo  non  Nata 
jacent." ' 

*  The  last  line  was  in  the  first  draft. 


240  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Even  when,  in  later  years,  Byron  somewhat  modified 
the  views  of  his  youth,  he  expressed  an  opinion  that 

'  A  material  resurrection  seems  strange,  and  even 
absurd,  except  for  purposes  of  punishment,  and  all 
punishment  which  is  to  revenge  Ta.ther  than  correcimxist 
be  morally  wrong.'' 

It  is  therefore  tolerably  certain  that,  on  the  day 
when  he  expressed  a  hope  that  he  might  meet  his 
lady-love  again,  the  meeting  was  to  have  been  in  this 
world,  and  not  in  that  '  land  of  souls  beyond  the  sable 
shore.'  It  must  also  be  remembered  that  the  eighth 
stanza  in  the  second  canto  of  '  Childe  Harold '  was 
substituted  for  one  in  which  Byron  deliberately  stated 
that  he  did  not  look  for  Life,  where  life  may  never  be. 
The  revise  was  written  to  please  Dallas,  and  does  not 
pretend  to  be  a  confession  of  belief  in  immortality,  but 
merely  an  admission  that,  on  a  subject  where  '  nothing 
can  be  known,'  no  final  decision  is  possible. 

In  the  summer  of  1813  Byron  underwent  grave 
vicissitudes,  mental,  moral,  and  financial.  His  letters 
and  journals  teem  with  allusions  to  some  catastrophe. 
It  seemed  as  though  he  were  threatened  with  impend- 
ing ruin.  In  his  depressed  state  of  mind  he  found 
relief  only,  as  he  tells  us,  in  the  composition  of  poetry. 
It  was  at  this  time  that  he  wrote  in  swift  succession 
'  The  Giaour,'  *  The  Bride  of  Abydos,'  and  '  The  Cor- 
sair.' It  is  clear  that  Byron's  dejection  was  the  result 
of  a  hopeless  attachment.  Mr.  Hartley  Coleridge 
assumes  that  Byron's  innamorata  was  Lady  Frances 
Wedderburn  Webster.  But  that  bright  star  did  not 
long  shine  in  Byron's  orbit — certainly  not  after  Octo- 
ber, 1 81 3 — and  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  were  ever 
on  terms  of  close  intimacy.  Her  husband  had  long 
been  Byron's  friend.     Byron  had  lent  him  money,  and 


LADY  FRANCES  WEBSTER  241 

had  given  him  advice,  which  he  seems  to  have  sorely 
needed.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  why  Lady  Frances 
Webster  should  have  been  especially  regarded  as 
Byron's  Calypso.  There  is  nothing  to  show  that  she 
ever  seriousl}'  occupied  his  thoughts.  Writing  to 
Moore  on  September  27,  18 13,  Byron  says  : 

*  I  stayed  a  week  with  the  Websters,  and  behaved 
very  well,  though  the  lady  of  the  house  is  young, 
religious,  and  pretty,  and  the  master  is  my  particular 
friend.  I  felt  no  wish  for  anything  but  a  poodle  dog, 
which  they  kindly  gave  me.' 

So  little  does  Byron  seem  to  have  been  attracted  by 
Lady  Frances,  that  he  only  once  more  visited  the 
Websters,  and  then  only  for  a  few  days,  on  his  way  to 
Newstead,  between  October  3  and  10,  181 3. 

On  June  3  of  that  year  Byron  wrote  to  Mr.  John 
Hanson,  his  solicitor,  a  letter  which  shows  the  state 
of  his  mind  at  that  time  He  tells  Hanson  that  he  is 
about  to  visit  Salt  Hill,  near  Maidenhead,  and  that  he 
will  be  absent  for  one  week.  He  is  determined  to  go 
abroad.  The  prospective  lawsuit  with  Mr,  Claughton 
(about  the  sale  of  Newstead)  is  to  be  dropped,  if  it 
cannot  be  carried  on  in  Byron's  absence.  At  all 
hazards,  at  all  losses,  he  is  determined  that  nothing 
shall  prevent  him  from  leaving  the  country. 

*  If  utter  ruin  were  or  is  before  me  on  the  one  hand, 
and  wealth  at  home  on  the  other,  I  have  made  my 
choice,  and  go  I  will' 

The  pictures,  and  every  movable  that  could  be  con- 
verted into  cash,  were,  by  Byron's  orders,  to  be  sold. 
'All  I  want  is  a  few  thousand  pounds,  and  then, 
Adieu.  You  shan't  be  troubled  with  me  these  ten 
years,  if  ever.'  Clearly,  there  must  have  been  some- 
thing more  than  a   passing  fancy  which  could   have 

16 


242  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

induced  Byron  to  sacrifice  his  chances  of  selling 
Newstead,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  thousand  pounds  of 
ready-money.  It  had  been  his  intention  to  accompany 
Lord  and  Lady  Oxford  on  their  travels,  but  this 
project  was  abandoned.  After  three  weeks — spent  in 
running  backwards  and  forwards  between  Salt  Hill 
and  London — Byron  confided  his  troubles  to  Augusta. 
She  was  always  his  rock  of  refuge  in  all  his  deeper 
troubles.  Augusta  Leigh  thought  that  absence  might 
mend  matters,  and  tried  hard  to  keep  her  brother  up 
to  his  resolve  of  going  abroad ;  she  even  volunteered 
to  accompany  him.  But  Lady  Melbourne — who  must 
have  had  a  prurient  mind — persuaded  Byron  that  the 
gossips  about  town  would  not  consider  it  ' proper*  for 
him  and  his  sister  to  travel  alone !  As  Byron  was 
at  that  time  under  the  influence  of  an  irresistible 
infatuation.  Lady  Melbourne's  warning  turned  the 
scale,  and  the  project  fell  through.  Meanwhile  the 
plot  thickened.  Something — he  told  Moore — had  ruined 
all  his  prospects  of  matrimony.  His  financial  circum- 
stances, he  said,  were  mending;  'and  were  not  my 
other  prospects  blackening,  I  would  take  a  wife.' 

In  July  he  still  wishes  to  get  out  of  England.  '  They 
had  better  let  me  go,'  he  says ;  *  one  can  die  anywhere.' 

On  August  22,  after  another  visit  to  Salt  Hill,  Byron 
writes  to  Moore : 

*  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  brilliant  sex ;  but  the 
fact  is,  I  am  at  this  moment  in  a  far  more  serious,  and 
entirely  new,  scrape,  than  any  of  the  last  twelve.months, 
and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  It  is  unlucky  we  can 
neither  live  with  nor  without  these  women.' 

A  week  later  he  wrote  again  to  Moore : 

'  I  would  incorporate  with  any  woman  of  decent 
demeanour  to-morrow — that  is,  I  would  a  month  ago, 
but  at  present  .  .  .' 


A  HOPELESS  ATTACHMENT  243 

Moore  suggested  that  Byron's  case  was  similar  to 
that  of  the  youth  apostrophized  by  Horace  in  his 
twenty-seventh  ode,  and  invited  his  confidence : 

'  Come,  whisper  it — the  tender  truth — 

To  safe  and  friendly  ears  ! 
What !     Her  ?     O  miserable  youth  ! 

Oh  1  doomed  to  grief  and  tears  1 
In  what  a  whirlpool  are  you  tost, 
Your  rudder  broke,  your  pilot  lost  I' 

Recent  research  has  convinced  the  present  writer 
that  the  incident  which  affected  Byron  so  profoundly 
at  this  time — about  eighteen  months  before  his  marriage 
— indirectly  brought  about  the  separation  between 
Lord  and  Lady  Byron  in  1816.  A  careful  student  of 
Byron's  character  could  not  fail  to  notice,  among  all 
the  contradictions  and  inconsistencies  of  his  life,  one 
point  upon  which  he  was  resolute — namely,  a  con- 
sistent reticence  on  the  subject  of  the  intimacy  which 
sprang  up  between  himself  and  Mary  Chaworth  in  the 
summer  of  181 3.  The  strongest  impulse  of  his  life — 
even  to  the  last — was  a  steadfast,  unwavering,  hope- 
less attachment  to  that  lady.  Throughout  his  turbu- 
lent youth,  in  his  early  as  in  his  later  days,  the  same 
theme  floats  through  the  chords  of  his  melodious  verse, 
a  deathless  love  and  a  deep  remorse.  Even  at  the  last, 
when  the  shadow  of  Death  was  creeping  slowly  over 
the  flats  at  Missolonghi,  the  same  wild,  despairing  note 
found  involuntary  expression,  and  the  last  words  that 
Byron  ever  wrote  tell  the  sad  story  with  a  distinctness 
which  might  well  open  the  eyes  even  of  the  blind. 

When  he  first  met  his  fate,  he  was  a  schoolboy  of 
sixteen — precocious,  pugnacious,  probably  a  prig,  and 
by  no  means  handsome.  He  must  have  appeared  to 
Mary  much  as  we  see  him  in  his  portrait  by  Sanders. 
Mary  was  two  years  older,  and  already  in  love  with 

16 — 2 


244  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

a  fox-hunting  squire  of  good  family.  '  Love  dwells  not 
in  our  will,'  and  a  nature  like  Byron's,  once  under  its 
spell,  was  sure  to  feel  its  force  acutely.  There  was 
romance,  too,  in  the  situation  ;  and  the  poetic  tempera- 
ment— always  precocious — responded  to  an  impulse 
on  the  gossamer  chance  of  achieving  the  impossible. 
Mary  was  probably  half  amused  and  half  flattered  by 
the  adoration  of  a  boy  of  whose  destiny  she  divined 
nothing. 

There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  was  any 
meeting  between  Byron  and  Mary  Chaworth  after  the 
spring  of  1809,  until  the  summer  of  181 3.  Their  sepa- 
ration seemed  destined  to  be  final.  Although  Byron, 
in  after-years,  wished  it  to  be  believed  that  they  had 
not  met  since  1808,  it  is  certain  that  a  meeting  took 
place  in  the  summer  of  18 13.  Although  Byron  took, 
as  we  shall  see  presently,  great  pains  to  conceal  that 
fact  from  the  public,  he  did  not  attempt  to  deceive 
either  Moore,  Hobhouse,  or  Hodgson.  In  his  letter 
to  Monsieur  Coulmann,  written  in  July,  1823,  we  have 
♦^he  version  which  Byron  wished  the  public  to  believe. 

*  I  had  not  seen  her  [Mary  Chaworth]  for  many  years. 
When  an  occasion  offered,  I  was  upon  the  point,  with 
her  consent,  of  paying  her  a  visit,  when  my  sister,  who 
has  always  had  more  influence  over  me  than  anyone 
else,  persuaded  me  not  to  do  it.  "For,"  said  she,  "if 
you  go,  you  will  fall  in  love  again,  and  then  there  will 
be  a  scene ;  one  step  will  lead  to  another,  et  cela  fera 
un  eclat"  etc.  I  was  guided  by  these  reasons,  and 
shortly  after  I  married.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Chaworth  some 
time  after,  being  separated  from  her  husband,  became 
insane ;  but  she  has  since  recovered  her  reason,  and 
is,  I  believe,  reconciled  to  her  husband.' 

At  about  the  same  time  Byron  told  Medwin  that, 
after  Mary's  separation  from  her  husband,  she  pro- 
posed  an   interview  with   him  —  a  suggestion  which 


MARY  CHAWORTH  245 

Byron,  by  the  advice  of  Mrs.   Leigh,  declined.     He 
also  said  to  Medwin : 

'  She  [Mary  Chaworth]  was  the  beau-ideal  of  all  that 
my  youthful  fancy  could  paint  of  beautiful ;  and  1  have 
taken  all  my  fables  about  the  celestial  nature  of  women 
from  the  perfection  my  imagination  created  in  her — I 
say  created,  for  1  found  her,  like  the  rest  of  her  sex,  any- 
thing but  angelic.^ 

It  is  difficult  to  see  how  Byron  could  have  arrived 
at  so  unflattering  an  estimate  of  a  woman  whom  he 
had  only  once  seen  since  her  marriage — at  a  dinner- 
party, when,  as  he  has  told  us,  he  was  overcome  by 
shyness  and  a  feeling  of  awkwardness !  But  let  that 
pass.  Byron  wished  the  world  to  believe  (i)  that 
Mary  Chaworth,  after  the  separation  from  her  husband 
in  181 3,  proposed  a  meeting  with  Byron;  (2)  that  he 
declined  to  meet  her ;  (3)  that,  after  his  unfortunate 
marriage,  Mary  became  insane  ;  and  (4)  that  he  found 
her,  '  like  the  rest  of  her  sex,  anything  but  angelic' 

It  is  quite  possible,  of  course,  that  Byron  may  have 
at  first  refused  to  meet  the  only  woman  on  earth  whom 
he  sincerely  loved,  and  more  than  likely  that  Mrs. 
Leigh  did  her  utmost  to  dissuade  him  from  so  rash 
a  proceeding.  But  it  is  on  record  that  Byron  in- 
cautiously admitted  to  Medwin  that  he  did  meet  Mary 
Chaworth  after  his  return  from  Greece.^  It  will  be 
remembered  that  he  returned  from  Greece  in  181 1. 
Their  intimacy  had  long  before  been  broken  off  by 
Mr.  John  Musters ;  and,  as  we  have  seen,  Mary,  faithful 
to  a  promise  which  she  had  made  to  her  husband, 
kept  away  from  Annesley  during  the  period  (181 1) 
when  the  '  Thyrza  '  poems  were  written.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  they  would  ever  again  have  met  if  her  husband 
had  shown  any  consideration  for  her  feelings.  But  he 
*  Medwin  (edition  of  1824),  p.  63. 


246  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

showed  her  none.  When,  nearly  forty  years  ago,  the 
present  writer  visited  Annesley,  there  were  several 
people  living  who  remembered  both  Mary  Chaworth 
and  her  husband.  These  people  stated  that  their 
married  life,  so  full  of  grief  and  bitterness,  was  a 
constant  source  of  comment  both  at  Annesley  and 
Newstead.  The  trouble  was  attributed  to  the  harsh 
and  capricious  conduct,  and  the  well-known  infidelities, 
of  one  to  whose  kindness  and  affection  Mary  had  a 
sacred  claim.  She  seems  to  have  been  left  for  long 
periods  at  Annesley  with  only  one  companion.  Miss 
Anne  Radford,  who  had  been  brought  up  with  her 
from  childhood.  This  state  of  things  eventually  broke 
down,  and  when,  in  the  early  part  of  1813,  Mary  could 
stand  the  strain  no  longer,  a  separation  took  place  by 
mutual  consent. 

In  the  summer  of  that  year  Byron  and  this  unhappy 
woman  were  thrown  together  by  the  merest  accident, 
and,  unfortunately  for  both,  renewed  their  dangerous 
friendship. 

Byron's  friend  and  biographer,  Thomas  Moore,  took 
great  pains  to  suppress  every  allusion  to  Mary 
Chaworth  in  Byron's  memoranda  and  letters.  He 
faithfully  kept  the  secret.  There  is  nothing  in  Byron's 
letters  or  journals,  as  revised  by  Moore,  to  show  that 
they  ever  met  after  1808,  and  yet  they  undoubtedly  did 
meet  in  18 13,  after  Mary's  estrangement  from  her  hus- 
band. That  they  were  in  constant  correspondence  in 
November  of  that  year  may  be  gathered  from  Byron's 
journal,  where  Mary's  name  is  veiled  by  asterisks. 

On  November  24  he  writes  : 

'  I  am  tremendously  in  arrear  with  my  letters,  except 
to  ****,  and  to  her  my  thoughts  overpower  me  :  my 
words  never  compass  them.' 


THE  'MORNING  STAR  OF  ANNESLEY'    247 

'I  have  been  pondering,'  he  writes  on  the  26th,  'on 
the  miseries  of  separation,  that — oh !  how  seldom  we 
see  those  we  love !  Yet  we  live  ages  in  moments 
when  meV 

Then  follows,  on  the  27th,  a  clue  : 

*  I  believe,  with  Clym  o'  the  Clow,  or  Robin  Hood, 

'  "  By  our  Mary  (dear  name  !)  thou  art  both  Mother  and  May, 
I  think  it  never  was  a  man's  lot  to  die  before  his  day."  ' 

It  is  attested,  by  all  those  who  were  acquainted  with 
Mary  Chaworth,  that  she  always  bore  an  exemplary 
character.  It  was  well  known  that  her  marriage  was 
an  unhappy  one,  and  that  she  had  been  for  some  time 
deserted  by  her  husband.  In  June,  1813,  when  she 
fell  under  the  fatal  spell  of  Byron,  then  the  most 
fascinating  man  in  society,*  she  was  living  in  deep 
dejection,  parted  from  her  lawful  protector,  with 
whom  she  had  a  serious  disagreement.  He  had 
neglected  her,  and  she  well  knew  that  she  had  a  rival 
in  his  affections  at  that  time. 

It  was  in  these  distressing  circumstances  that 
Byron,  with  the  world  at  his  feet,  came  to  worship 
her  in  great  humility.  As  he  looked  back  upon  the 
past,  he  realized  that  this  neglected  woman  had  always 
been  the  light  of  his  life,  the  lodestar  of  his  destiny. 
And  now  that  he  beheld  his  '  Morning  Star  of 
Annesley'  shedding  ineffectual  rays  upon  the  dead 
embers  of  a  lost  love,  the  old  feeling  returned  to  him 
with  resistless  force. 

'  We  met — we  gazed — I  saw,  and  sighed  ; 
She  did  not  speak,  and  yet  replied ; 
There  are  ten  thousand  tones  and  signs 
We  hear  and  see,  but  none  defines — 

*  '  A  power  of  fascination  rarely,  if  ever,  possessed  by  any  man  of 
his  age '  ('  Recollections  of  a  Long  Life/  by  Lord  Broughton,  vol.  ii., 
p.  196). 


248  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Involuntary  sparks  of  thought, 

Which  strike  from  out  the  heart  o'erwrought, 

And  form  a  strange  intelligence, 

Alike  mysterious  and  intense, 

Which  link  the  burning  chain  that  binds. 

Without  their  will,  young  hearts  and  minds. 

I  saw,  and  sighed — in  silence  wept, 

And  still  reluctant  distance  kept, 

Until  I  was  made  known  to  her. 

And  we  might  then  and  there  confer 

Without  suspicion — then,  even  then, 

I  longed,  and  was  resolved  to  speak ; 
But  on  my  lips  they  died  again, 

The  accents  tremulous  and  weak, 
Until  one  hour  .  .  . 

***** 
'  I  would  have  given 

My  life  but  to  have  called  her  mine 
In  the  full  view  of  Earth  and  Heaven; 

For  I  did  oft  and  long  repine 
That  we  could  only  meet  by  stealth.' 

In  the  remorseful  words  of  Manfred, 

'  Her  faults  were  mine — her  virtues  were  her  own — 
I  loved  her,  and  destroyed  her  !  .  .  . 
Not  with  my  hand,  but  heart — which  broke  her  heart — 
It  gazed  on  mine  and  withered.' 

Without  attempting  to  excuse  Byron's  conduct — 
indeed,  that  were  useless — it  must  be  remembered  that 
he  was  only  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  Mary  was 
very  unhappy.  After  all  hope  of  meeting  her  again 
had  been  abandoned,  the  force  of  destiny,  so  to  speak, 
had  unexpectedly  restored  his  lost  Thyrza  —  the 
Theresa  of  *  Mazeppa.' 

'  I  loved  her  then,  I  love  her  still ; 
And  such  as  I  am,  love  indeed 
In  fierce  extremes — in  good  and  ill — 
But  still  we  love.  .  .  . 
Haunted  to  our  very  age 
With  the  vain  shadow  of  the  past.' 


REMORSE  249 

Byron's  punishment  was  in  this  world.  The  remorse 
which  followed  endured  throughout  the  remaining 
portion  of  his  life.  It  wrecked  what  might  have 
proved  a  happy  marriage,  and  drove  him,  from  stone 
to  stone,  along  life's  causeway,  to  that  *  Sea  Sodom  ' 
where,  for  many  months,  he  tried  to  destroy  the 
memory  of  his  crime  by  reckless  profligacy. 

Mary  Chaworth  no  sooner  realized  her  awful  danger 
— the  madness  of  an  impulse  which  not  even  love 
could  excuse — than  she  recoiled  from  the  precipice 
which  yawned  before  her.  She  had  been  momentarily 
blinded  by  the  irresistible  fascination  of  one  who, 
after  all,  really  and  truly  loved  her.  But  she  was 
a  good  woman  in  spite  of  this  one  episode,  and  to  the 
last  hour  of  her  existence  she  never  swerved  from  that 
narrow  path  which  led  to  an  honoured  grave. 

Although  it  was  too  late  for  happiness,  too  late  to 
evade  the  consequences  of  her  weakness,  there  was 
still  time  for  repentance.  The  secret  was  kept  inviolate 
by  the  very  few  to  whom  it  was  confided,  and  the 
present  writer  deeply  regrets  that  circumstances  have 
compelled  him  to  break  the  seal. 

If '  Astarte  '  had  not  been  written,  there  would  have 
been  no  need  to  lift  the  veil.  Lord  Lovelace  has 
besmirched  the  good  name  of  Mrs.  Leigh,  and  it  is 
but  an  act  of  simple  justice  to  defend  her. 

When  Mary  Chaworth  escaped  from  Byron's  fatal 
influence,  he  reproached  her  for  leaving  him,  and  tried 
to  shake  her  resolution  with  heart-rending  appeals. 
Happily  for  both,  they  fell  upon  deaf  ears. 

'  Astarte  !  my  beloved  !  speak  to  me  ; 
Say  that  thou  loath'st  me  not — that  I  do  bear 
This  punishment  for  both.' 

The  depth  and  sincerity  of  Byron's  love  for  Mary 


250  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Chaworth  cannot  be  questioned.     Moore,  who  knew 
him  well,  says  : 

'  The  all-absorbing  and  unsuccessful  (unsatisfied) 
love  for  Mary  Chaworth  was  the  agony,  without  being 
the  death,  of  an  unsated  desire  which  lived  on  through 
life,  filled  his  poetry  with  the  very  soul  of  tender- 
ness, lent  the  colouring  of  its  light  to  even  those  un- 
worthy ties  which  vanity  or  passion  led  him  afterwards 
to  form,  and  was  the  last  aspiration  of  his  fervid 
spirit,  in  those  stanzas  written  but  a  few  months  before 
his  death.' 

It  was,  in  fact,  a  love  of  such  unreasonableness  and 
persistence  as  might  be  termed,  without  exaggeration, 
a  madness  of  the  heart. 

Although  Mary  escaped  for  ever  from  that  baneful 
infatuation,  which  in  an  unguarded  moment  had 
destroyed  her  peace  of  mind,  her  separation  from 
Byron  was  not  complete  until  he  married.  Not  only 
did  they  correspond  frequently,  but  they  also  met 
occasionally.  In  the  following  January  (1814)  Byron 
introduced  Mary  to  Augusta  Leigh.  From  that  event- 
ful meeting,  when  probable  contingencies  were  provided 
for,  until  Mary's  death  in  1832,  these  two  women,  who 
had  suffered  so  much  through  Byron,  continued  in  the 
closest  intimacy;  and  in  November,  1819,  Augusta 
stood  sponsor  for  Mary's  youngest  daughter. 

In  a  poem  which  must  have  been  written  in  1813, 
an  apostrophe  '  To  Time,'  Byron  refers  to  Mary's 
resolutions. 

'  In  Joy  I've  sighed  to  think  thy  flight 

Would  soon  subside  from  swift  to  slow ; 
Thy  cloud  could  overcast  the  light, 

But  could  not  add  a  night  to  Woe  ; 
For  then,  however  drear  and  dark, 

My  soul  was  suited  to  thy  sky ; 
One  star  alone  shot  forth  a  spark 

To  prove  thee — not  Eternity. 
Thai  beam  liath  sunk.' 


MARY  CHAWORTH  AND  MRS.  LEIGH    251 

It  is  of  course  true  that  matters  were  not,  and  could 
never  again  be,  on  the  same  footing  as  in  July  of  that 
year;  but  Mary  Chaworth  was  constancy  itself,  in  a 
higher  and  a  nobler  sense  than  Byron  attached  to  it, 
when  he  reproached  her  for  broken  vows. 

'  Thy  vows  are  all  broken, 
And  light  is  thy  fame  : 
I  hear  thy  name  spoken, 
And  share  in  its  shame.' 

During  the  remainder  of  Byron's  life,  Mary  took  a 
deep  interest  in  everything  that  affected  him.  In  18 14, 
believing  that  marriage  would  be  his  salvation,  she 
used  her  influence  in  that  direction.  We  know  that 
she  did  not  approve  of  the  choice  which  Byron  so 
recklessly  made,  and  she  certainly  had  ample  cause  to 
deplore  its  results.  Through  her  close  intimacy  with 
Augusta  Leigh — an  intimacy  which  has  not  hitherto 
been  suspected — she  became  acquainted  with  every 
phase  in  Byron's  subsequent  career.  She  could  read 
'  between  the  lines,'  and  solve  the  mysteries  to  be 
found  in  such  poems  as  '  Lara,'  '  Mazeppa,'  '  Manfred,' 
and  '  Don  Juan.' 

We  believe  that  Byron's  love  for  Mary  was  the 
main  cause  of  the  indifference  he  felt  towards  his 
wife.  In  order  to  shield  Mary  from  the  possible 
consequences  of  a  public  investigation  into  conduct 
prior  to  his  marriage,  Byron,  in  18 16,  consented  to  a 
separation  from  his  wife. 

After  Byron  had  left  England  Mary  broke  down 
under  the  strain  she  had  borne  so  bravely,  and  her 
mind  gave  way.  When  at  last,  in  April,  1817,  a  recon- 
ciliation took  place  between  Mary  and  her  husband, 
it  was  apparent  to  everyone  that  she  had,  during  those 
four  anxious  years,  become  a  changed  woman.     She 


252  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

never  entirely  regained  either  health  or  spirits.  Her 
mind  *  had  acquired  a  tinge  of  religious  melancholy, 
which  never  afterwards  left  it'  Sorrow  and  dis- 
appointment had  subdued  a  naturally  buoyant  nature, 
and  'melancholy  marked  her  for  its  own.'  Shortly 
before  her  death,  in  1832,  she  destroyed  every  letter 
she  had  received  from  Byron  since  those  distant 
fateful  years  when,  as  boy  and  girl,  they  had 
wandered  on  the  Hills  of  Annesley.  For  eight  sad 
3'-ears  Mary  Chaworth  survived  the  lover  of  her  youth. 
Shortly  before  her  death,  in  a  letter  to  one  of  her 
daughters,  she  drew  her  own  character,  which  might 
fitly  form  her  epitaph  :  *  Soon  led,  easily  pleased,  very 
hasty,  and  very  relenting,  with  a  heart  moulded  in  a 
warm  and  affectionate  fashion.' 

Such  was  the  woman  who,  though  parted  by  fate, 
maintained  through  sunshine  and  storm  an  ascendancy 
over  the  heart  of  Byron  which  neither  time  nor  absence 
could  impair,  and  which  endured  to  the  end  of  his 
earthly  existence.  We  may  well  believe  that  those 
inarticulate  words  which  the  dying  poet  murmured 
to  the  bewildered  Fletcher — those  broken  sentences 
which  ended  with,  '  Tell  her  everything ;  you  are 
friends  with  her' — may  have  referred,  not  to  Lady 
Byron,  as  policy  suggested,  but  to  Mary  Chaworth, 
with  whom  Fletcher  had  been  acquainted  since  his 
youth. 

We  have  incontestable  proof  that,  only  two  months 
before  he  died,  Byron's  thoughts  were  occupied  with 
one  whom  he  had  named  '  the  starlight  of  his  boy- 
hood.' How  deeply  Byron  thought  about  Mary 
Chaworth  at  the  last  is  proved  by  the  poem  which 
was  found  among  his  papers  at  Missolonghi.  In  six 
stanzas  the  poet  revealed  the  story  that  he  would  fain 


A  POETICAL  SCHERZO  253 

have  hidden.     A  note  in  his  handwriting  states  that 

they  were   addressed   *  to  no  one  in  particular,'  and 

that  they  were  merely  '  a  poetical  scherzo.'    There  is, 

however,  no  room  for  doubt  that  the  poem  bears  a 

deep  significance. 

I. 

'  I  watched  thee  when  the  foe  was  at  our  side, 
Ready  to  strike  at  him — or  thee  and  me 
Were  safety  hopeless — rather  than  divide 
Aught  with  one  loved,  save  love  and  liberty.' 

We  have  here  a  glimpse  of  that  turbulent  scene 
when  Mary's  husband,  in  a  fit  of  jealousy,  put  an  end 
to  their  dangerous  intimacy. 

II. 

'  I  watched  thee  on  the  breakers,  when  the  rock 

Received  our  prow,  and  all  was  storm  and  fear, 
And  bade  thee  cling  to  me  through  every  shock ; 
This  arm  would  be  thy  bark,  or  breast  thy  bier.' 

This  brings  us  to  that  period  of  suspense  and  fear, 
in  1814,  which  preceded  the  birth  of  Medora.  In  a 
letter  which  Byron  at  that  time  wrote  to  Miss  Milbanke, 
we  find  these  words  : 

*  I  am  at  present  a  little  feverish — I  mean  mentally — 
and,  as  usual,  on  the  brink  of  something  or  other,  which 
will  probably  crush  me  at  last,  and  cut  our  correspondence 
short,  with  everything  else.' 

Twelve  days  later  (March  3, 1814),  Byron  tells  Moore 
that  he  is  'uncomfortable,'  and  that  he  has  'no  lack 
of  argument  to  ponder  upon  of  the  most  gloomy 
description.' 

'  Some  day  or  other,'  he  writes,  *  when  we  are 
veterans,  I  may  tell  you  a  tale  of  present  and  past  times ; 
and  it  is  not  from  want  of  confidence  that  I  do  not 
now.  ...  All  this  wordd  be  very  well  if  I  had  no  heart; 
but,  unluckily,  I  have  found  that  there  is  such  a  thing 


254  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

still  about  me,  though  in  no  very  good  repair,  and  also 
that  it  has  a  habit  of  attaching  itself  to  one^  whether  I 
will  or  no.  Divide  et  impera,  I  begin  to  think,  will  only 
do  for  politics.' 

When  Moore,  who  was  puzzled,  asked  Byron  to 
explain  himself  more  clearly,  he  replied :  *  Guess 
darkly,  and  you  will  seldom  err.' 

Thirty-four  days  later  Medora  was  born,  April  15, 

1 8 14. 

III. 

'  I  watched  thee  when  the  fever  glazed  thine  eyes, 

Yielding  my  couch,  and  stretched  me  on  the  ground, 
When  overworn  with  watching,  ne'er  to  rise 
From  thence  if  thou  an  early  grave  had  found.' 

Here  we  see  Byron's  agony  of  remorse.  Like  Herod, 
he  lamented  for  Mariamne  : 

'  And  mine's  the  guilt,  and  mine  the  hell, 
This  bosom's  desolation  dooming  ; 
And  I  have  earned  those  tortures  well 
Which  unconsumed  are  still  consuming !' 

In  '  Manfred '  we  find  a  note  of  remembrance  in  the 
deprecating  words : 

'  Oh  1  no,  no,  no  I 
My  injuries  came  down  on  those  who  loved  me — 
On  those  whom  I  best  loved :  I  never  quelled 
An  enem}',  save  in  my  just  defence — 
But  my  embrace  was  fatal.' 

IV. 

'  The  earthquake  came,  and  rocked  the  quivering  wall, 
And  men  and  Nature  reeled  as  if  with  wine  : 
Whom  did  I  seek  around  the  tottering  hall  ? 

For  thee.     Whose  safety  first  provide  for  ?    Thine.' 

We  now  see  Byron,  at  the  supreme  crisis  of  his  life, 
standing  in  solitude  on  his  hearth,  with  all  his  house- 
hold gods  shivered  around  him.  We  perceive  that  not 
least  among  his  troubles  at  that  time  was  the  ever- 
haunting  fear  lest  the  secret  of  Medora's  birth  should 


•LOVE  DWELLS  NOT  IN  OUR  WILL'    255 

be  disclosed.  His  greatest  anxiety  was  for  Mary's 
safety,  and  this  could  only  be  secured  by  keeping  his 
matrimonial  squabbles  out  of  a  court  of  law.  It  was, 
in  fact,  by  agreeing  to  sign  the  deed  of  separation  that 
the  whole  situation  was  saved.  The  loyalty  of  Augusta 
Leigh  on  this  occasion  was  never  forgotten  : 

'  There  was  soft  Remembrance  and  sweet  Trust 
In  one  fond  breast.' 

'  That  love  was  pure — and,  far  above  disguise, 
Had  stood  the  test  of  mortal  enmities 
Still  undivided,  and  cemented  more 
By  peril,  dreaded  most  in  female  eyes, 
But  this  was  firm.' 

In  the  fifth  stanza  we  see  Byron,  eight  years  later, 
at  Missolonghi,  struck  down  by  that  attack  of  epilepsy 
which  preceded  his  death  by  only  two  months : 

V. 

'  And  when  convulsive  throes  denied  my  breath 
The  faintest  utterance  to  my  fading  thought, 
To  thee — to  thee — e'en  in  the  gasp  of  death 
My  spirit  turned,  oh  !  oftener  than  it  ought.' 

In  the  sixth  and  final  stanza,  probably  the  last  lines 
that  Byron  ever  wrote,  we  find  him  reiterating,  with 
all  a  lover's  persistency,  a  belief  that  Mary  could  never 
have  loved  him,  otherwise  she  would  not  have  left  him. 

VI. 

'  Thus  much  and  more  ;  and  yet  thou  lov'st  me  not. 
And  never  wilt !     Love  dwells  not  in  our  will. 
Nor  can  I  blame  thee,  though  it  be  my  lot 
To  strongly,  wrongly,  vainly  love  thee  still.' 

The  reproaches  of  lovers  are  often  unjust.  Byron 
either  could  not,  or  perhaps  would  not,  see  that  in 
abandoning  him  Mary  had  been  actuated  by  the 
highest,  the  purest  motives,  and  that  the  renunciation 
must  have  afforded  her  deep   pain — a  sacrifice,  not 


256  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

lightly  made,  for  Byron's  sake  quite  as  much  as  for  her 
own.  That  Byron  for  a  time  resented  her  conduct  in 
this  respect  is  evident  from  a  remark  made  in  a  letter 
to  Miss  Milbanke,  dated  November  29,  1813.  After 
saying  that  he  once  thought  that  Mary  Chaworth  could 
have  made  him  happy,  he  added,  *  but  subsequent  events 
have  proved  that  my  expectations  might  not  have  been 
fulfilled  had  I  ever  proposed  to  and  received  my  idol.'* 
What  those  'subsequent  events'  were  may  be 
guessed  from  reproaches  which  at  this  period  appear 
among  his  poems : 

'  The  wholly  false  the  heart  despises, 

And  spurns  deceiver  and  deceit  ; 
But  she  who  not  a  thought  disguises, 

Whose  love  is  as  sincere  as  sweet — 
When  she  can  change,  who  loved  so  truly, 
It  feels  what  mine  ha.?,  felt  so  newly.' 

In  the  letter  written  five  years  after  their  final 
separation,  Byron  again  reproaches  Mary  Chaworth, 
but  this  time  without  a  tinge  of  bitterness  : 

*  My  own,  we  may  have  been  very  wrong,  but  I 
repent  of  nothing  except  that  cursed  marriage,  and 
your  refusing  to  continue  to  love  me  as  you  had  loved 
me,  I  can  neither  forget  nor  quite  forgive  you  for  that 
precious  piece  of  reformation.  But  I  can  never  be 
other  than  I  have  been,  and  whenever  I  love  anything, 
it  is  because  it  reminds  me  in  some  way  or  other  of 
yourself.' 

*  The  Giaour  '  was  begun  in  May  and  finished  in 
November,  1813.  Those  parts  which  relate  to  Mary 
Chaworth  were  added  to  that  poem  in  July  and  August: 

'  She  was  a  form  of  Life  and  Light, 
That,  seen,  became  a  part  of  sight ; 
And  rose,  where'er  I  turned  mine  eye, 
The  Morning-Star  of  Memory  !' 

*  '  Letters  and  Journals  of   Byron,'   vol.  iii.,  p.  406,  edited   by 
Rowland  E.  Prothero. 


BYRON'S  CONSTANCY  257 

Byron  says  that,  like  the  bird  that  sings  within  the 
brake,  like  the  swan  that  swims  upon  the  waters,  he 
can  only  have  one  mate.  He  despises  those  who  sneer 
at  constancy.  He  does  not  envy  them  their  fickle- 
ness, and  regards  such  heartless  men  as  lower  in  the 
scale  of  creation  than  the  solitary  swan. 

'  Such  shame  at  least  was  never  mine — 
Leila  !  each  thought  was  only  thine ! 
My  good,  my  guilt,  my  weal,  my  woe, 
My  hope  on  high — my  all  below. 
Earth  holds  no  other  like  to  thee, 
Or,  if  it  doth,  in  vain  for  me : 

.  .  .  Thou  wert,  thou  art, 
The  cherished  madness  of  my  heart !' 

'  Yes,  Love  indeed  is  light  from  heaven  ; 

A  spark  of  that  immortal  fire 
With  angels  shared,  by  Alia  given. 

To  lift  from  earth  our  low  desire. 
I  grant  my  love  imperfect,  all 
That  mortals  by  the  name  miscall ; 
Then  deem  it  evil,  what  thou  wilt ; 
But  say,  oh  say,  hers  was  not  Guilt  1 
And  she  was  lost — and  yet  I  breathed, 

But  not  the  breath  of  human  life  : 
A  serpent  round  my  heart  was  wreathed. 

And  stung  my  every  thought  to  strife.' 

Who  can  doubt  that  the  friend  '  of  earlier  days,' 
whose  memory  the  Giaour  wishes  to  bless  before  he 
dies,  but  whom  he  dares  not  bless  lest  Heaven  should 
'mark  the  vain  attempt '  of  guilt  praying  for  the  guilt- 
less, was  Mary  Chaworth.  He  bids  the  friar  tell  that 
friend 

'  What  thou  didst  behold  : 
The  withered  frame — the  ruined  mind. 
The  wreck  that  Passion  leaves  behind — 
The  shrivelled  and  discoloured  leaf, 
Seared  by  the  Autumn  blast  of  Grief.' 

He  wonders  whether  that  friend  is  still  his  friend, 
as  in  those  earlier  days,  when  hearts  were  blended  in 

17 


258  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

that  sweet  land  where  bloom  his  native  valley's  bowers. 
To  that  friend  he  sends  a  ring,  which  was  the  memorial 
of  a  youthful  vow : 

'  Tell  him — unheeding  as  I  was, 
Through  many  a  busy  bitter  scene 
Of  all  our  golden  youth  hath  been, 
In  pain,  my  faltering  tongue  had  tried 
To  bless  his  memory — ere  I  died ; 
I  do  not  ask  him  not  to  blame, 
Too  gentle  he  to  wound  my  name ; 
I  do  not  ask  him  not  to  mourn. 
Such  cold  request  might  sound  like  scorn. 
But  bear  this  ring,  his  own  of  old. 
And  tell  him  what  thou  dost  behold !' 

The  motto  chosen  by  Byron  for  '  The  Giaour '  is  in 

itself  suggestive : 

'  One  fatal  remembrance — one  sorrow  that  throws 
Its  bleak  shade  alike  o'er  our  Joys  and  our  Woes — 
To  which  Life  nothing  darker  nor  brighter  can  bring, 
For  which  Joy  hath  no  balm — and  affliction  no  sting.' 

On  October  lo,  1813,  Byron  arrived  at  Newstead, 
where  he  stayed  for  a  month.  Mary  Chaworth  was 
at  Annesley  during  that  time.  On  his  return  to  town 
he  wrote  (November  8)  to  his  sister: 

'  My  dearest  Augusta, 

'  I  have  only  time  to  say  that  my  long  silence 
has  been  occasioned  by  a  thousand  things  (with  which 
you  are  not  concerned).  It  is  not  Lady  Caroline,  nor 
Lady  Oxford  ;  but  perhaps  you  may  guess,  and  if  you 
do,  do  not  tell.  You  do  not  know  what  mischief  your 
being  with  me  might  have  prevented.  You  shall  hear 
from  me  to-morrow ;  in  the  meantime  don't  be  alarmed. 
I  am  in  Tto  immediate  peril. 

'  Believe  me,  ever  yours, 

'B.' 
On  November  30  Byron  wrote  to  Moore : 

*  We  were  once  very  near  neighbours  this  autumn  ;* 

*  Moore  had  rented  a  cottage  in  Nottinghamshire,  not  very  remote 
from  Newstead  Abbey. 


'MOTHER  AND  MAY'  259 

and  a  good  and  bad  neighbourhood  it  has  proved  to 
me.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  your  French  quotation  (Si 
je  recommen^ais  ma  carriere,  je  ferais  tout  ce  que  j'ai 
fait)  was  confoundedly  to  the  purpose, — though  very 
unexpectedly  pertinent,  as  you  may  imagine  by  what  I 
said  before,  and  my  silence  since.  However,  "  Richard's 
himself  again,"  and,  except  all  night  and  some  part  of 
the  morning,  I  don't  think  very  much  about  the  matter. 
All  convulsions  end  with  me  in  rhyme ;  and  to  solace 
my  midnights  I  have  scribbled  another  Turkish  story 
['  The  Bride  of  Abydos ']  which  you  will  receive 
soon  after  this.  ,  .  .  I  have  written  this,  and  published 
it,  for  the  sake  of  employment — to  wring  my  thoughts 
from  reality,  and  take  refuge  in  "imaginings,"  how- 
ever "  horrible."  .  .  .    This  is  the  work  of  a  week.  .  .  .' 

In  order  the  more  effectually  to  dispose  of  the  theory 
that  Lady  Frances  Wedderburn  Webster  was  the 
cause  of  Byron's  disquietude,  we  insert  an  extract 
from  his  journal,  dated  a  fortnight  earlier  (November 
14,  1813): 

'  Last  night  I  finished  "  Zuleika "  [the  name  was 
afterwards  changed  to  '  The  Bride  of  Abydos '],  my 
second  Turkish  tale.  I  believe  the  composition  of  it 
kept  me  alive — for  it  was  written  to  drive  my  thoughts 
from  the  recollection  of  ****  "  Dear  sacred  name,  rest 
ever  unrevealed."  At  least,  even  here,  my  hand  would 
tremble  to  write  it.  .  .  .  I  have  some  idea  of  expec- 
torating a  romance,  but  what  romance  could  equal  the 
events 

' " .  .  .  quaeque  ipse  .  .  .  vidi, 
Et  quorum  pars  magna  f  ui "  ?' 

Surely  the  name  that  Byron  dared  not  write,  even 
in  his  own  journal,  was  not  that  of  Lady  Frances 
Webster,  whose  name  appears  often  in  his  correspon- 
dence. The  *  sacred  name '  was  that  of  one  of  whom 
he  afterwards  wrote,  'Thou  art  both  Mother  and 
May.' 

During  October,  November,  and   December,   181 3, 

17—2 


26o  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Byron's  mind  was  in  a  perturbed  condition.  We 
gather,  from  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  Moore  on 
November  30,  that  his  thoughts  were  centred  on  a  lady 
living  in  Nottinghamshire*,  and  that  the  scrape,  which 
he  mentions  in  his  letter  to  Augusta  on  November  8, 
referred  to  that  lady  and  the  dreaded  prospects  of 
maternity. 

Mr.  Coleridge  believes  that  the  verses,  *  Remember 
him,  whom  Passion's  power,'  were  addressed  to  Lady 
Frances  Wedderburn  Webster.  There  is  nothing,  so 
far  as  the  present  writer  knows,  to  support  that 
opinion.  There  is  no  evidence  to  show  the  month  in 
which  they  were  written  ;  and,  in  view  of  the  statement 
that  the  lady  in  question  had  lived  in  comparative 
retirement,  '  Thy  soul  from  long  seclusion  pure,' 
and  that  she  had,  because  of  his  presumption,  banished 
the  poet  in  1813,  it  could  not  well  have  been  Lady 
Frances  Webster,  who  in  September  of  that  year  had 
asked  Byron  to  be  godfather  to  her  child,  and  in 
October  had  invited  him  to  her  house.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  Byron  expressly  forbade  Murray  to  pub- 
lish those  verses  with  '  The  Corsair,'  where,  it  must  be 
owned,  they  would  have  been  sadly  out  of  place. 
*  Farewell,  if  ever  fondest  prayer,'  was  decidedly  more 
appropriate  to  the  state  of  things  existing  at  that  time. 

The  motto  chosen  for  his  *  Bride  of  Abydos  *  is  taken 
from  Burns : 

'  Had  we  never  loved  sae  kindly, 
Had  we  never  loved  sae  blindly, 
Never  met — or  never  parted, 
We  had  ne'er  been  broken-hearted.' 

The  poem  was  written  early  in  November,  1813. 
Byron  has  told  us  that  it  was  written  to  divert  his 

■**•  See  '  Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron,'  edited  by  Rowland 
Prothero,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  267,  269,  278,  292. 


•THE  BRIDE  OF  ABYDOS'  261 

mind,*  *  to  wring  his  thoughts  from  reality  to  imagina- 
tion, from  selfish  regrets  to  vivid  recollections ';  to 
'distract  his  thoughts  from  the  recollection  of  **** 
"  Dear  sacred  name,  rest  ever  unrevealed," '  and 
in  a  letter  to  John  Gait  (December  11,  1813)  he 
says  that  parts  of  the  poem  were  drawn  *  from  exist- 
ence.' He  had  been  staying  at  Newstead,  in  close 
proximity  to  Annesley,  from  October  10  to  November  8, 
during  which  time,  as  he  says,  he  regretted  the  absence 
of  his  sister  Augusta,  'who  might  have  saved  him  much 
trouble.'  He  says,  'All  convulsions  end  with  me  in 
rhyme,'  and  that  'The  Bride  of  Abydos'  was  'the  work 
of  a  week.'  In  speaking  of  a  '  dear  sacred  name,  rest 
ever  unrevealed,'  he  says  :  '  At  least  even  here  my 
hand  would  tremble  to  write  it';  and  on  November  30 
he  writes  to  Moore  :  '  Since  I  last  wrote'  (October  2), 
'  much  has  happened  to  me.'  On  November  27  he 
writes  in  his  journal  :  '  Mary — dear  name — thou  art 
both  Mother  and  May.'f  At  the  end  of  November, 
after  he  had  returned  to  town,  he  writes  in  his  journal : 

*****  is  distant,  and  will  be  at  *  *  *  *,  still  more  distant, 
till  the  spring.  No  one  else,  except  Augusta,  cares 
for  me.  ...  I  am  tremendously  in  arrears  with  my 
letters,  except  to  ****,  and  to  her  my  thoughts  over- 
power me — my  words  never  compass  them.' 

On  November  14  Byron  sends  a  device  for  the  seals 
of  himself  and  ****;  the  seal  in  question  is  at  present 
in  the  possession  of  the  Chaworth-Musters  family.  On 
December  10,  we  find  from  one  of  Byron's  letters  that 

*  '  Had  I  not  written  "  The  Bride  "  (in  four  nights),  I  must  have 
gone  mad  by  eating  my  own  heart — bitter  diet.' — 'Journals  and 
Letters,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  321. 

t  '  Hail  be  you,  Mary,  mother  and  May, 
Mild,  and  meek,  and  merciable  !' 

An  Ancient  Hymn  to  the  Virgin. 


262  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

he  had  thoughts  of  committing  suicide,  and  was 
deterred  by  the  idea  that  *  it  would  annoy  Augusta, 
and  perhaps  ****,' 

Byron  seems  to  have  put  into  the  mouth  of  Zuleika 
words  which  conveyed  his  own  thoughts  : 

'  Think' st  thou  that  I  could  bear  to  part 
With  thee,  and  learn  to  halve  my  heart  ? 
Ah  !  were  I  severed  from  thy  side, 
Where  were  thy  friend — and  who  my  guide  ? 
Years  have  not  seen,  Time  shall  not  see, 
The  hour  that  tears  my  soul  from  thee : 
Ev'n  Azrael,  from  his  deadly  quiver 

When  flies  that  shaft,  and  fly  it  must, 
That  parts  all  else,  shall  doom  for  ever 

Our  hearts  to  undivided  dust ! 

***** 
What  other  can  she  seek  to  see 
Than  thee,  companion  of  her  bower. 
The  partner  of  her  infancy  ? 
These  cherished  thoughts  with  life  begun, 
Say,  why  must  I  no  more  avow  ?' 

Selim  suggests  that  Zuleika  should  brave  the  world 
and  fly  with  him  : 

'  But  be  the  Star  that  guides  the  wanderer,  Thou  ! 
Thou,  my  Zuleika,  share  and  bless  my  bark ; 
The  Dove  of  peace  and  promise  to  mine  ark ! 
Or,  since  that  hope  denied  in  worlds  of  strife, 
Be  thou  the  rainbow  to  the  storms  of  life ! 
The  evening  beam  that  smiles  the  clouds  away, 
And  tints  to-morrow  with  prophetic  ray  ! 
***** 
Not  blind  to  Fate,  I  see,  where'er  I  rove. 
Unnumbered  perils, — but  one  only  love  ! 
Yet  well  my  toils  shall  that  fond  breast  repay, 
Though  Fortune  frown,  or  falser  friends  betray.' 

Zuleika,  we  are  told,  was  the  '  last  of  Giaffir's  race.'* 

*  Mary  was  '  the  last  of  a  time-honoured  race.'     The  line  of  the 
Chaworths  ended  with  her. 


'THE  CORSAIR'  263 

Selim  tells  her  that  'life  is  hazard  at  the  best,'  and 
there  is  much  to  fear : 

'  Yes,  fear  !  the  doubt,  the  dread  of  losing  thee. 
That  dread  shall  vanish  with  the  favouring  gale ; 
Which  Love  to-night  has  promised  to  my  sail. 
No  danger  daunts  the  pair  his  smile  hath  blest, 
Their  steps  still  roving,  but  their  hearts  at  rest. 
With  thee  all  toils  are  sweet,  each  clime  hath  charms ; 
Earth — Sea  alike — our  world  within  our  arms  !' 

'The  Corsair'  was  written  between  December  18, 
1813,  and  January  11,  1814.  While  it  was  passing 
through  the  press,  Byron  was  at  Newstead.  He  gives 
a  little  of  his  own  spirit  to  Conrad,  and  all  Mary's 
virtues  to  Medora — a  name  which  was  afterwards 
given  to  his  child.     Conrad 

'  Knew  himself  a  villain — but  he  deemed 
The  rest  no  better  than  the  thing  he  seemed ; 
And  scorned  the  best  as  hypocrites  who  hid 
Those  deeds  the  bolder  spirit  plainly  did. 
Lone,  wild,  and  strange,  he  stood  alike  exempt 
From  all  affection  and  from  all  contempt. 
None  are  all  evil — quickening  round  his  heart. 
One  softer  feeHng  would  not  yet  depart. 
Yet  'gainst  that  passion  vainly  still  he  strove, 
And  even  in  him  it  asks  the  name  of  Love ! 
Yes,  it  was  Love — unchangeable — unchanged. 
Felt  but  for  one  from  whom  he  never  ranged. 
Yes — it  was  Love — if  thoughts  of  tenderness, 
Tried  in  temptation,  strengthened  by  distress, 
Unmoved  by  absence,  firm  in  every  clime. 
And  yet — oh  !  more  than  all !  untired  by  Time. 
If  there  be  Love  in  mortals — this  was  Love ! 
He  was  a  villain — aye,  reproaches  shower 
On  him — but  not  the  Passion,  nor  its  power, 
Which  only  proved — all  other  virtues  gone — 
Not  Guilt  itself  could  quench  this  earliest  one !' 

The  following  verses  are  full  of  meaning  for  the 
initiated : 


264  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 


'  Deep  in  my  soul  that  tender  secret  dwells, 

Lonely  and  lost  to  light  for  evermore, 
Save  when  to  thine  my  heart  responsive  swells, 
Then  trembles  into  silence  as  before. 

II. 

'  There,  in  its  centre,  a  sepulchral  lamp 

Burns  the  slow  flame,  eternal — but  unseen ; 
Which  not  the  darkness  of  Despair  can  damp, 
Though  vain  its  ray  as  it  had  never  been. 

III. 

'  Remember  me — oh  !  pass  not  thou  my  grave 

Without  one  thought  whose  relics  there  recline : 
The  only  pang  my  bosom  dare  not  brave 
Must  be  to  find  forgetfulness  in  thine. 

IV. 

'  My  fondest — faintest — latest  accents  hear — 
Grief  for  the  dead  not  Virtue  can  reprove ; 
Then  give  me  all  I  ever  asked — a  tear. 

The  first — last — sole  reward  of  so  much  love  !' 

Conrad  and  Medora  part,  to  meet  no  more  in  life 

'  But  she  is  nothing — wherefore  is  he  here  ?  .  .  . 
By  the  first  glance  on  that  still,  marble  brow — 
It  was  enough — she  died — what  recked  it  how  ? 
The  love  of  youth,  the  hope  of  better  years, 
The  source  of  softest  wishes,  tenderest  fears, 
The  only  living  thing  he  could  not  hate, 
Was  reft  at  once — and  he  deserved  his  fate, 
But  did  not  feel  it  less.' 

The  blow  he  feared  the  most  had  fallen  at  last. 
The  only  woman  whom  he  loved  had  withdrawn  her 
society  from  him,  and  his  heart, 

'  Formed  for  softness — warped  to  wrong. 
Betrayed  too  early,  and  beguiled  too  long,' 


was  petrified  at  last 


A  POETIC  TRILOGY  265 

Yet  tempests  wear,  and  lightning  cleaves  the  rock  ; 

If  such  his  heart,  so  shattered  it  the  shock. 

There  grew  one  flower  beneath  its  rugged  brow, 

Though  dark  the  shade — it  sheltered — saved  till  now. 

The  thunder  came — that  bolt  hath  blasted  both, 

The  Granite's  firmness,  and  the  Lily's  growth  : 

The  gentle  plant  hath  left  no  leaf  to  tell 

Its  tale,  but  shrunk  and  withered  where  it  fell ; 

And  of  its  cold  protector,  blacken  round 

But  shivered  fragments  on  the  barren  ground  !' 

In  moments  of  deep  emotion,  even  the  most  reticent 
of  men  may  sometimes  reveal  themselves.  'The 
Giaour,'  'The  Bride  of  Ab3^dos,'  and  'The  Corsair,' 
formed  a  trilogy,  through  which  the  tragedy  of  Byron's 
life  swept  like  a  musical  theme.  Those  poems  acted 
like  a  recording  instrument  which,  by  registering  his 
transient  moods,  was  destined  ultimately  to  betra}' 
a  secret  which  he  had  been  at  so  much  pains  to  hide. 
In  '  The  Giaour  '  we  see  remorse  for  a  crime,  which  he 
was  at  first  willing  to  expiate  in  sorrow  and  repent- 
ance. In  '  The  Bride  of  Abydos '  we  find  him,  in  an 
access  of  madness  and  passion,  proposing  to  share  the 
fate  of  his  victim,  if  she  will  but  consent  to  fly  with 
him.  Happily  for  both,  Mary  would  never  have  con- 
sented to  an  act  of  social  suicide.  In  'The  Corsair' 
we  behold  his  dreams  dispelled  by  the  death  of  his 
Love  and  the  hope  of  better  years. 

'  He  asked  no  question — all  were  answered  now  !' 

With  the  dramatic  fate  of  Medora  the  curtain  falls, 
and  the  poet,  in  whom 

'  I  suoi  pensieri  in  lui  dormir  non  ponno,' 

crosses  the  threshold  of  a  new  life.  He  reappears 
later  on  the  scene  of  all  his  woes,  a  broken,  friendless 
stranger,  in  the  person  of  Lara — that  last  phase,  in 
which  the  poet  discloses  his  identity  with  character- 


266  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

istic   insouciance,   brings   the   tragedy  abruptly  to   a 
close.* 

On  January  6, 1814,  Byron  wrote  a  remarkable  letter 
to  Moore,  at  that  time  in  Nottinghamshire  : 

* ...  I  have  a  confidence  for  you — a  perplexing  one 
to  me,  and  just  at  present  in  a  state  of  abeyance  in 
itself.  .  .  .  [Here  probably  follows  the  disclosure.] 
However,  we  shall  see.  In  the  meantime  you  may 
amuse  yourself  with  my  suspense,  and  put  all  the 
justices  of  peace  in  requisition,  in  case  I  come  into 
your  county  [Nottinghamshire]  with  hackbut  bent.f 
Seriously,  whether  I  am  to  hear  from  her  or  him,  it  is 
a  pause,  which  I  can  fill  up  with  as  few  thoughts  of 
my  own  as  I  can  borrow  from  other  people.  Anything 
is  better  than  stagnation ;  and  now,  m  the  interregnum 
of  my  autumn  and  a  strange  summer  adventure,  which 
I  don't  like  to  think  of  .  .  .  Of  course  you  will  keep 
my  secret,  and  don't  even  talk  in  your  sleep  of  it. 
Happen  what  may,  your  dedication  is  ensured,  being 
already  written  ;  and  I  shall  copy  it  out  fair  to-night,  in 
case  business  or  amusement — Amant  alterna  Camoence! 

Byron  here  refers  to  '  The  Corsair,*  which  he  dedi- 
cated to  Thomas  Moore.  In  order  to  understand  this 
letter,  it  may  be  inferred  that  one  of  the  letters  he  had 
written  to  his  lady-love  had  remained  so  long  un- 
answered that  Byron  feared  it  might  have  fallen  into 
her  husband's  hands.  Writing  to  Moore  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  Byron  says  : 

'  My  last  epistle  would  probably  put  you  in  a  fidget. 
But  the  devil,  who  ought  to  be  civil  on  such  occasions, 

*  It  will  be  remembered  that  Byron  had  announced  '  The  Corsair ' 
as  '  the  last  production  with  wliich  he  should  trespass  on  public 
patience  for  some  years.'  With  the  loss  of  Mary's  love  his  inspiration 
was  gone. 

t  '  With  hackbut  bent,  my  secret  stand, 
Dark  as  the  purposed  deed,  I  chose, 
And  mark'd  where,  mingling  in  his  band, 
Trooped  Scottish  pikes  and  English  bows.' 

Sir  Walter  Scott  :  Cadyow  Castle. 


A  LETTER  FROM  MRS.  CHAWORTH     267 

proved  so,  and  took  my  letter  to  the  right  place.  .  .  . 
Is  it  not  odd  ?  the  very  fate  I  said  she  had  escaped  from 
****  she  has  now  undergone  from  the  worthy  ****.' 

An  undated  letter  from  Mary  Chaworth,  preserved 
among  the  Byron  letters  in  Mr.  Murray's  possession, 
seems  to  belong  to  this  period  : 

*  Your  kind  letter,  my  dear  friend,  relieved  me  much, 
and  came  yesterday,  when  I  was  by  no  means  well, 
and  was  a  most  agreeable  remedy,  for  I  fancied  a 
thousand  things.  ...  I  shall  set  great  value  by  your 
seal,  and,  if  you  come  down  to  Newstead  before  we 
leave  Annesley,  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not 
call  on  us  and  bring  it.  .  .  .*  I  have  lately  suffered 
from  a  pain  in  my  side,  which  has  alarmed  me ;  but  I 
will  not,  in  return  for  your  charming  epistle,  fill  mine 
with  complaints.  ...  I  am  surprised  you  have  not 
seen  Mr.  Chaworth,  as  I  hear  of  him  going  about  a 
good  deal.  We  [herself  and  Miss  Radford]  are  now 
visiting  very  near  Nottingham,  but  return  to  Annesley 
to-morrow,  I  trust,  where  I  have  left  all  my  little  dears 
except  the  eldest,  whomj^ow  saw,  and  who  is  with  me. 
We  are  very  anxious  to  see  you,  and  yet  know  not  how 
we  shall  feel  on  the  occasion— /or;;;«/,  I  dare  say,  at 
\hQ  first ;  but  our  meeting  must  be  confined  to  our  trio, 
and  then  1  think  we  shall  be  more  at  our  ease.  Do 
write  me,  and  make  a  sacrifice  to  friendship,  which  I 
shall  consider  3^our  visit.  You  may  always  address 
your  letters  to  Annesley  perfectly  safe. 

*  Your  sincere  friend, 

*  Mary ' 

On  or  about  January  7,  1814,  Byron  writes  to  his 
sister  Augusta  in  reference  to  Mary  Chaworth  : 

'  I  shall  write  to-morrow,  but  did  not  go  to  Lady  M.'s 
[Melbourne]  twelfth  cake  banquet.  M.  [Mary]  has 
written  again — all  friendship — and  really  very  simple 
and  pathetic  —  bad  usage  — paleness  —  ill-health  —  old 
friendship — once — good  motive — virtue — and  so  forth.' 

*  Mary's  allusion  to  the  seal  is  explained  by  an  entry  in  Byron's 
journal,  November  14,  1813.  The  seal  is  treasured  as  a  memento  of 
Byron  by  the  Musters  family. 


268  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Five  days  later  Byron  again  writes  to  Augusta 
Leigh : 

'On  Sunday  or  Monday  next,  with  leave  of  your 
lord  and  president,  you  will  be  well  and  ready  to 
accompany  me  to  Newstead,  which  you  should  see, 
and  I  will  endeavour  to  render  as  comfortable  as  I  can, 
for  both  our  sakes.  .  .  .  Claughton  is,  I  believe, 
inclined  to  settle.  .  .  .  More  news  from  Mrs. 
[Chaworth],  all  friendship  ;  you  shall  see  her.' 

Medora  was  born  on  or  about  April  15,  18 14. 
'Lara'  was  written  between  May  4  and  14.  The 
opening  lines,  which  would  have  set  every  tongue 
wagging,  were  withheld  from  publication  until  January, 
1887.  They  were  written  in  London  early  in  May, 
and  were  addressed  to  the  mother  of  Medora : 

'  When  thou  art  gone — the  loved,  the  lost — the  one 
Whose  smile  hath  gladdened,  though  perchance  undone — 
Whose  name  too  dearly  cherished  to  impart 
Dies  on  the  lip,  but  trembles  in  the  heart ; 
Whose  sudden  mention  can  almost  convulse, 
And  lightens  through  the  ungovernable  pulse — 
Till  the  heart  leaps  so  keenly  to  the  word 
We  fear  that  throb  can  hardly  beat  unheard — * 
Then  sinks  at  once  beneath  that  sickly  chill 
That  follows  when  we  find  her  absent  still. 
When  thou  art  gone — too  far  again  to  bless — 
Oh  !  God — how  slowly  comes  Forgetfulness  ! 
Let  none  complain  how  faithless  and  how  brief 
The  brain's  remembrance,  or  the  bosom's  grief, 
Or  ere  they  thus  forbid  us  to  forget 
Let  Mercy  strip  the  memory  of  regret ; 
Yet — seliish  still — we  would  not  be  forgot, 
W^hat  lip  dare  say — "  My  Love — remember  not  "  ? 


*  No  one,  we  presume,  will  question  the  identity  of  the  person 

mentioned  in  '  The  Dream' : 

'  Upon  a  tone, 
A  touch  of  hers,  his  blood  would  ebb  and  flow, 
And  his  cheek  change  tempestuously — his  heart 
Unknowing  of  its  cause  of  agony.' 


'  MAGDALEN '  269 

Oh  !  best — and  dearest !     Thou  whose  thrilling  name 
My  heart  adores  too  deeply  to  proclaim — 
My  memory,  almost  ceasing  to  repine, 
Would  mount  to  Hope  if  once  secure  of  thine. 
Meantime  the  tale  I  weave  must  mournful  be — 
As  absence  to  the  heart  that  lives  on  thee  !' 

Lord  Lovelace  has  told  us  that  *  nothing  is  too 
stupid  for  belief,'  We  are  disposed  to  agree  with  him, 
especially  as  he  produces  these  lines  in  support  of  his 
accusation  against  Augusta  Leigh.  The  absurdity  of 
supposing  that  they  were  addressed  to  Byron's  sister 
appears  to  us  to  be  so  evident  that  it  seems  unneces- 
sary to  waste  words  in  disputation.  There  is  abundant 
proof  that  during  this  period  Mrs.  Leigh  and  Byron 
were  in  constant  correspondence,  and  that  he  visited 
her  almost  daily  during  her  simulated  confinement 
and  convalescence.  When  Murray  sent  her  some 
books  to  while  away  the  time,  Byron  wrote  (April  9) 
on  her  behalf  to  thank  him.  And  finally,  as  Augusta 
Leigh  had  no  intention  whatever  of  leaving  London, 
she  could  in  no  sense  have  been  *  the  lost  one '  whose 
prospective  departure  filled  Byron  with  despair.  The 
poet  and  his  sister — whom  he  was  accustomed  to 
address  as  *  Goose  '* — were  then,  and  always,  on  most 
familiar  terms.  The  '  mention  of  her  name '  (which 
was  often  on  his  lips)  would  certainly  not  have  con- 
vulsed him,  nor  have  caused  his  heart  to  beat  so  loudly 
that  he  feared  lest  others  should  hear  it  I  The  woman 
to  whom  those  lines  were  addressed  was  Mary  Cha- 
worth,  whose  condition  induced  him,  on  April  18,  to 
begin  a  fragment  entitled  '  Magdalen ' — she  of  whom 
he  wrote  on  May  4 : 

'  I  speak  not — I  trace  not — I  breathe  not  thy  name — 
There  is  Love  in  the  sound — there  is  Guilt  in  the  fame.' 

*  '  Astarte,'  p.  134. 


270  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Lord  Lovelace,  in  his  impetuosity,  and  with  very 
imperfect  knowledge  of  Byron's  life-story,  ties  every 
doubtful  scrap  of  his  grandfather's  poetry  into  his 
bundle  of  proofs  against  Augusta  Leigh,  without  per- 
ceiving any  discrepancy  in  the  nature  of  his  evidence. 
A  moment's  reflection  might  have  convinced  him  that 
the  lines  we  have  quoted  could  not,  by  any  possi- 
bility, have  applied  to  one  whom  he  subsequently 
addressed  as  : 

'  My  sister  !  my  sweet  sister  !  if  a  name 
Dearer  and  purer  were,  it  should  be  thine ; 
***** 
Had  I  but  sooner  learnt  the  crowd  to  shun, 
I  had  been  better  than  I  now  can  be ; 
The  passions  which  have  torn  me  would  have  slept ; 
/  had  not  suffered,  and  thou  hadst  not  wept' 

It  must  be  admitted  that  Byron,  through  indiscreet 
confidences  and  reckless  mystifications,  was  partly  the 
cause  of  the  suspicions  which  afterwards  fell  upon  his 
sister.  Lady  Byron  has  left  it  on  record  that  Byron 
early  in  1814 — before  the  birth  of  Medora — told  Lady 
Caroline  Lamb  that  a  woman  he  passionately  loved 
was  with  child  by  him,  and  that  if  a  daughter  was 
born  it  should  be  called  Medora.*  At  about  the  same 
time  'he  advanced,  at  Holland  House,  the  most  extra- 
ordinary theories  about  the  relations  of  brother  and 
sister,  which  originated  the  reports  about  Mrs.  Leigh.* 

That,  after  ninety  years,  such  nonsense  should  be 
regarded  as  evidence  against  a  woman  so  well  known 
in  the  society  of  her  day  as  was  Mrs.  Leigh,  justifies 

*  Lady  Caroline  Lamb  also  asserted  that  Byron  showed  her  some 

letters  which  contained  some  such  expression  as  this  :  "  Oh  !  B , 

if  we  loved  one  another  as  we  did  in  childhood — then  it  was  innocent." 
The  reader  may  judge  whether  such  a  remark  would  be  more  natural 
from  Augusta,  or  from  Mary  Chaworth. 


THE  MYSTERY  IN  'LARA'  271 

our  concurrence  with  Lord  Lovelace's  opinion  that 
'  nothing  is  too  stupid  for  belief.' 

It  appears  that  one  day  Lady  Byron  was  talking  to 
her  husband  about  '  Lara,'  which  seemed  to  her  to 
be  Mike  the  darkness  in  which  one  fears  to  behold 
spectres.'  This  bait  was  evidently  too  tempting  for 
Byron  to  resist.  He  replied  :  * "  Lara" — there's  more  in 
that  than  in  any  of  them.'  As  he  spoke  he  shuddered, 
and  turned  his  eyes  to  the  ground. 

Before  we  examine  that  poem  to  see  how  much  it 
may  contain  of  illuminating  matter,  we  will  touch 
upon  a  remark  Byron  made  to  his  wife,  which  Lord 
Lovelace  quotes  without  perceiving  its  depth  and 
meaning.     We  will  quote  'Astarte': 

*  He  told  Lady  Byron  that  if  she  had  married  him 
when  he  first  proposed,  he  should  not  have  written 
any  of  the  poems  which  followed  [the  first  and  second 
Cantos]  "Childe  Harold."' 

This  is  perfectly  true.  Byron  proposed  to  Miss 
Milbanke  in  1812.  If  she  had  married  him  then,  he 
would  not  have  renewed  his  intimacy  with  Mary 
Chaworth  in  June,  1813.  There  would  have  been  no 
heart-hunger,  no  misery,  no  remorse,  and,  in  short,  no 
inspiration  for 'The  Giaour," The  Bride,'  'The  Corsair,' 
and  'Lara.'  Miss  Milbanke's  refusal  of  his  offer  of 
marriage  in  1812  rankled  long  in  Byron's  mind,  and 
provoked  those  ungenerous  reproaches  which  have 
been,  with  more  or  less  exaggeration,  reported  by 
persons  in  Lady  Byron's  confidence.  The  mischief 
was  done  between  the  date  of  Miss  Milbanke's  refusal 
and  her  acceptance  of  his  offer,  which  occurred  after 
the  fury  of  his  passion  for  Mary  Chaworth  had  burnt 
itself  out.  No  blame  attaches  to  Lady  Byron  for  this 
misfortune.      When   Byron  first  proposed,  her  affiec- 


272  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

tions  were  elsewhere  engaged ;  she  could  not,  there- 
fore, dispose  of  her  heart  to  him.  When  she  at  last 
accepted  him,  it  was  too  late  for  happiness. 

In  a  letter  which  Byron  wrote  to  Miss  Milbanke 
previous  to  his  marriage,*  he  unconsciously  prophesied 
the  worst : 

*  The  truth  is  that  could  I  have  foreseen  that  your  life 
was  to  be  linked  to  mine — had  I  even  possessed  a  dis- 
tinct hope,  however  distant — I  would  have  been  a  dif- 
ferent and  better  being.  As  it  is,  1  have  sometimes 
doubts,  even  if  I  should  not  disappoint  the  future,  nor 
act  hereafter  unworthily  of  you,  whether  the  past  ought 
not  to  make  you  still  regret  me — even  that  portion  of 
it  with  which  you  are  not  unacquainted.  I  did  not 
believe  such  a  woman  existed — at  least  for  me — and  I 
sometimes  fear  I  ought  to  wish  that  she  had  not! 

When  Byron  said  that  he  had  doubts  whether  the 
past  would  not  eventually  reflect  injuriously  upon  his 
future  wife,  he  referred,  not  to  Augusta  Leigh,  but 
to  his  fatal  intercourse  with  Mary  Chaworth.  The 
following  sentences  taken  from  Mrs.  Leigh's  letters 
to  Francis  Hodgson,  who  knew  the  truth,  prove  that 
the  mystery  only  incidentally  affected  Augusta.  The 
letters  were  written  February,  1816. 

'  From  what  passed  [between  Captain  Byron  and 
Mrs.  Clermont]  now^  ii  they  choose  it,  it  must  come 
into  court  1     God  alone  knows  the  consequences.' 

'  It  strikes  me  that,  if  their  pecuniary  proposals  are 
favourable,  Byron  will  be  too  happy  to  escape  the 
exposure.  He  must  be  anxious.  It  is  impossible  he 
should  not  in  some  degree.' 

These  are  the  expressions,  not  of  a  person  con- 
nected with  a  tragedy,  but  rather  of  one  who  was 
a  spectator  of  it.  Every  impartial  person  m.ust  see 
that.     When,  on  another  occasion,  Byron  told  his  wife 

*  October  14,  1814. 


LARA  273 

that  he  wished  he  had  gone  abroad — as  he  had 
intended — in  June,  181 3,  he  undoubtedl}''  implied  that 
the  fatal  intimacy  with  Mary  Chaworth  would  have 
been  avoided.  This  seems  so  clear  to  us  that  we  are 
surprised  that  Byron's  statement  on  the  subject  of  his 
poems  should  have  made  no  impression  on  the  mind 
of  Lord  Lovelace,  and  should  have  elicited  nothing 
from  him  in  'Astarte,'  except  the  banale  suggestion 
that  Byron's  literary  activity  must  have  been  accidental ! 
Lara,  like  Conrad,  is  a  portion  of  Byron  himself,  and 
the  poem  opens  with  his  return  to  Newstead  after 
some  bitter  experiences,  at  which  he  darkly  hints : 

'  Short  was  the  course  his  restlessness  had  run, 
But  long  enough  to  leave  him  half  undone.' 

He  tells  us  that '  Another  chief  consoled  his  destined 
bride.'  'One  is  absent  that  most  might  decorate  that 
gloomy  pile.' 

'  Why  slept  he  not  when  others  were  at  rest  ? 
Why  heard  no  music,  and  received  no  guest  ? 
All  was  not  well,  they  deemed — but  where  the  wrong? 
Some  knew  perchance.' 

In  stanzas  17,  18,  and  19,  Byron  draws  a  picture 
of  himself,  so  like  that  his  sister  remarked  upon  it 
in  a  letter  to  Hodgson.  After  telling  us  that  'his 
heart  was  not  by  nature  hard,'  he  says  that 

'  His  blood  in  temperate  seeming  now  would  flow  : 
Ah  !  happier  if  it  ne'er  with  guilt  had  glowed, 
But  ever  in  that  icy  smoothness  flowed  !' 

The  poet  tells  us  that  after  Lara's  death  he  was 
mourned  by  one  whose  quiet  grief  endured  for  long. 

'  Vain  was  all  question  asked  her  of  the  past, 
And  vain  e'en  menace — silent  to  the  last.' 

'  Why  did  she  love  him  ?     Curious  fool ! — be  still — 
Is  human  love  the  growth  of  human  will  ? 

18 


274  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

To  her  he  might  be  gentleness ;  the  stern 
Have  deeper  thoughts  than  your  dull  eyes  discern, 
And  when  they  love,  your  smilers  guess  not  how 
Beats  the  strong  heart,  though  less  the  lips  avow. 
They  were  not  common  links,  that  formed  the  chain 
That  bound  to  Lara  Kaled's  heart  and  brain  ; 
But  that  wild  tale  she  brooked  not  to  unfold, 
And  sealed  is  now  each  lip  that  could  have  told. 
***** 

'  The  tempest  of  his  heart  in  scorn  had  gazed 
On  that  the  feebler  Elements  hath  raised. 
The  Rapture  of  his  Heart  had  looked  on  high. 
And  asked  if  greater  dwelt  beyond  the  sky : 
Chained  to  excess,  the  slave  of  each  extreme, 
How  woke  he  from  the  wildness  of  that  dream! 
Alas  !  he  told  not — but  he  did  awake 
To  curse  the  withered  heart  that  would  not  break.' 

On  September  8,  1814,  four  months  after  Byron  had 
finished  *  Lara,'  while  he  was  at  Newstead  with  his 
sister  and  her  children — the  little  Medora  among 
them  —  he  wrote  his  fragment  *  Harmodia.'  The 
rough  draft  was  given  after  his  marriage  to  Lady 
Byron,  who  had  no  idea  to  what  it  could  possibly 
refer.  When  the  scandal  about  Augusta  was  at  its 
height,  this  fragment  was  impounded  among  other 
incriminating  documents,  and  eventually  saw  the 
light  in  'Astarte.'  Lord  Lovelace  was  firmly  con- 
vinced that  it  was  addressed  to  Augusta  Leigh  ! 

Between  September  7  and  15  Byron  and  Mary 
Chaworth  were  considering  the  desirability  of  marriage 
for  Byron,  and  letters  were  passing  between  the  dis- 
tracted poet  and  two  young  ladies — Miss  Milbanke 
and  another — with  that  object  in  view.  Although 
Byron  was  still  in  love  with  Mary  Chaworth,  he  had 
come  to  understand  that  her  determination  to  break 
the  dangerous  intimacy  was  irrevocable,  so  he  resolved 
to  follow  her  advice  and  marry.    The  tone  of  his  letter 


'HARMODIA'  275 

to  Moore,  written  on  September  15,  shows  that  he 
was  not  very  keen  about  wedlock.  He  was  making 
plans  for  a  journey  to  Italy  in  the  event  of  his  pro- 
posal being  rejected. 

It  is  possible  that,  in  a  conversation  between  Mary 
and  himself,  the  former  may  have  spoken  of  the  risks 
they  had  incurred  in  the  past,  and  of  her  resolve  never 
to  transgress  again.     To  which  Byron  replied  : 

Harmodia. 

'  The  things  that  were — and  what  and  whence  are  they  ? 
Those  clouds  and  rainbows  of  thy  yesterday  ? 
Their  path  has  vanish'd  from  th'  eternal  sky, 
And  now  its  hues  are  of  a  different  dye. 
Thus  speeds  from  day  to  day,  and  Pole  to  Pole, 
The  change  of  parts,  the  sameness  of  the  whole  ; 
And  all  we  snatch,  amidst  the  breathing  strife, 
But  gives  to  Memory  what  it  takes  from  Life  : 
Despoils  a  substance  to  adorn  a  shade — 
And  that  frail  shadow  lengthens  but  to  fade. 
Sun  of  the  sleepless  !     Melancholy  Star  ! 
Whose  tearful  beam  shoots  trembling  from  afar — 
That  chang'st  the  darkness  thou  canst  not  dispel — 
How  like  art  thou  to  Joy,  remembered  well ! 
Such  is  the  past — the  light  of  other  days 
That  shines,  but  warms  not  with  its  powerless  rays — 
A  moonbeam  Sorrow  watcheth  to  behold, 
Distinct,  but  distant — clear,  but  dcaih-likc  cold. 

'  Oh  !  as  full  thought  comes  rushing  o'er  the  Mind 
Of  all  we  saw  before — to  leave  behind — 
Of  all ! — but  words,  what  are  they  ?     Can  they  give 
A  trace  of  truth  to  thoughts  while  yet  they  live  ? 
No — Passion — Feeling  speak  not — or  in  vain — 
The  tear  for  Grief — the  Groan  must  speak  for  Pain — 
Joy  hath  its  smile — and  Love  its  blush  and  sigh — 
Despair  her  silence — Hate  her  lip  and  eye — 
These  their  interpreters,  where  deeply  lurk — 
The  Soul's  despoilers  warring  as  they  work — 
The  strife  once  o'er — then  words  may  find  their  way, 
Yet  how  enfeebled  from  the  forced  delay  ! 

18—2 


276  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

'  But  who  could  paint  the  progress  of  the  wreck — 
Himself  still  clinging  to  the  dangerous  deck? 
Safe  on  the  shore  the  artist  first  must  stand, 
And  then  the  pencil  trembles  in  his  hand.' 

When,  four  years  later,  Byron  was  writing  the 
first  canto  of '  Don  Juan,' with  feelings  chastened  by 
suffering  and  time,  he  recurred  to  that  period — never 
effaced  from  his  memory — the  time  when  he  wrote : 

'  When  thou  art  gone — the  loved — the  lost — the  one 
Whose  smile  hath  gladdened — though,  perchance,  undone  !' 

Time  could  not  change  the  feelings  of  his  youth,  nor 
keep  his  thoughts  for  long  from  the  object  of  his  early 
love. 

'  They  tell  me  'tis  decided  j'^ou  depart : 

'Tis  wise — 'tis  well,  but  not  the  less  a  pain ; 

I  have  no  further  claim  on  your  young  heart, 
Mine  is  the  victim,  and  would  be  again  : 

To  love  too  much  has  been  the  only  art 

I  used.' 

'  I  loved,  I  love  you,  for  this  love  have  lost 

State,  station.  Heaven,  Mankind's,  my  own  esteem. 

And  yet  can  not  regret  what  it  hath  cost. 
So  dear  is  still  the  memory  of  that  dream  ; 

Yet,  if  I  name  my  guilt,  'tis  not  to  boast. 

None  can  deem  harshlier  of  me  than  I  deem.' 

'  All  is  o'er 
For  me  on  earth,  except  some  years  to  hide 

My  shame  and  sorrow  deep  in  my  heart's  core : 
These  I  could  bear,  but  cannot  cast  aside 

The  passion  which  still  rages  as  before — 
And  so  farewell — forgive  me,  love  me — No, 
That  word  is  idle  now — but  let  it  go.' 


'  My  heart  is  feminine,  nor  can  forget — 
To  all,  except  one  image,  madly  blind ; 
So  shakes  the  needle,  and  so  stands  the  pole, 
As  vibrates  my  fond  heart  to  my  fixed  soul.' 


■ 


FAREWELL  277 

It  was  early  in  18 14  that  Byron  also  wrote  his  fare- 
well verses  to  Mary  Chaworth,  which  appeared  in  the 
second  edition  of  'The  Corsair': 

I. 

'  Farewell !  if  ever  fondest  prayer 

For  other's  weal  availed  on  high, 
Mine  will  not  all  be  lost  m  air, 

But  waft  thy  name  beyond  the  sky. 
'Twere  vain  to  speak — to  weep — to  sigh  : 

Oh  !  more  than  tears  of  blood  can  tell, 
When  wrung  from  Guilt's  expiring  eye, 

Are  in  that  word — Farewell !  Farewell ! 

II. 

'  These  lips  are  mute,  these  eyes  are  dry ; 

But  in  my  breast,  and  in  my  brain, 
Awake  the  pangs  that  pass  not  by, 

The  thought  that  ne'er  shall  sleep  again. 
My  soul  nor  deigns  nor  dares  complain, 

Though  Grief  and  Passion  there  rebel : 
I  only  know  we  loved  in  vain — 

I  only  feel — Farewell !  Farewell !' 

Even  in  the  '  Hebrew  Melodies,'  which  were  prob- 
ably begun  in  the  autumn  of  18 14,  and  finished  after 
Byron's  marriage  in  January,  1815,  there  are  traces 
of  that  deathless  remorse  and  love,  whose  expression 
could  not  be  altogether  repressed.  We  select  some 
examples  at  random.  In  the  poem  'Oh,  snatched 
away  in  Beauty's  bloom,'  the  poet  had  added  two 
verses  which  were  subsequently  suppressed  : 

'  Nor  need  I  write  to  tell  the  tale, 

My  pen  were  doubly  weak. 
Oh  !  what  can  idle  words  avail. 
Unless  my  heart  could  speak  ? 

'  By  day  or  night,  in  weal  or  woe, 

That  heart,  no  longer  free, 
Must  bear  the  love  it  cannot  show. 
And  silent  turn  for  thee.' 


278  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

In  *  Herod's  Lament  for  Mariamne  '  we  find  : 

'  She's  gone,  who  shared  my  diadem  ; 

She  sunk,  with  her  my  joys  entombing; 
I  swept  that  flower  from  Judah's  stem. 

Whose  leaves  for  me  alone  were  blooming ; 
And  mine's  the  guilt,  and  mine  the  Hell, 

This  bosom's  desolation  dooming ; 
And  I  have  earned  those  tortures  well, 

Which  unconsumed  are  still  consuming !' 

While  admitting  that  Byron's  avowed  object  was  to 
portray  the  remorse  of  Herod,  we  suspect  that  the 
haunting  image  of  one  so  dear  to  him — one  who  had 
suffered  through  guilt  which  he  so  frequently  deplored 
in  verse — must  have  been  in  the  poet's  mind  when 
these  lines  were  written. 

On  January  17,  18 14,  Byron  went  to  Newstead  with 
Augusta  Leigh,  and  stayed  there  one  month. 

'  A  busy  month  and  pleasant,  at  least  three  weeks  of 
it.  .  .  .  "The  Corsair"  has  been  conceived,  written, 
published,  etc.,  since  I  took  up  this  journal.  They 
tell  me  it  has  great  success  ;  it  was  written  con  amore^ 
and  much  from  existence.' 

On  the  following  day  Byron  wrote  to  his  friend 
Wedderburn  Webster  : 

*  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  country  on  rather  a  melan- 
choly expedition.  A  very  old  and  earl}^  connexion 
[Mary  Chaworth],  or  rather  friend  of  mine,  has  desired 
to  see  me ;  and,  as  now  we  can  never  be  more  than 
friends,  I  have  no  objection.  She  is  certainly  unhappy 
and,  I  fear,  ill ;  and  the  length  and  circumstances 
attending  our  acquaintance  render  her  request  and 
my  visit  neither  singular  nor  improper.' 

This  strange  apology  for  what  might  have  been  con- 
sidered a  very  natural  act  of  neighbourly  friendship, 
inevitably  reminds  us  of  a  French  proverb.  Qui  s  excuse 
s' accuse.    It  is  worthy  of  note  that,  after  Byron  had  been 


d 


DEPRESSED  BY  ANXIETIES  279 

ten  days  at  Newstead  with  his  sister,  he  wrote  to  his 
lawyer — who  must  have  been  surprised  at  the  irrele- 
vant information — to  say  that  Augusta  Leigh  was  '  in 
the  family  way.'  The  significance  of  this  communica- 
tion has  hitherto  passed  unnoticed.  We  gather  from 
Byron's  letters  that  he  was  much  depressed  by  Mary 
Chaworth's  state  of  health,  involving  all  the  risks  of 
discovery. 

*  My  rhyming  propensity  is  quite  gone,'  he  writes, 

*  and  I  feel  much  as  I  did  at  Patras  on  recovering 
from  my  fever — weak,  but  in  health,  and  only  afraid 
of  a  relapse.' 

Soon  after  his  return  to  London  Byron  wrote  to 
Moore  :  '  Seriously,  I  am  in  what  the  learned  call  a 
dilemma,  and  the  vulgar,  a  scrape.  .  .  .' 

Moore  took  care,  with  his  asterisks,  that  we  should 
not  know  the  nature  of  that  scrape,  which  certainly 
had  nothing  to  do  with  his  '  Lines  to  a  Lady  Weep- 
ing' which  appeared  in  the  first  edition  of  'The 
Corsair.'  If  the  reader  has  any  doubts  on  this  point, 
let  him  refer  to  Byron's  letters  to  Murray,  notably  to 
that  one  in  which  the  angry  poet  protests  against  the 
suppression  of  those  lines  in  the  second  edition  of 

*  The  Corsair ': 

'You  have  played  the  devil  by  that  injudicious  sup- 
pression^  which  you  did  totally  without  my  consent. 
.  .  .  Now,  I  do  not,  and  will  not  be  supposed  to  shrink, 
although  myself  and  everything  belonging  to  me  were 
to  perish  with  my  memory.' 

Moore's  asterisks  veiled  the  record  of  a  deeper 
scrape,  as  Byron's  letter  to  him,  written  three  weeks 
later,  plainly  show. 

On  April  10,  1814,  Byron  wrote  in  his  journal : 

*  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  happiest  when  alone ;  but 
this  I  am  sure  of,  that  I  am  never  long  in  the  society 


28o  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

even  of  her  I  love  (God  knows  too  well,  and  the  Devil 
probably  too),  without  a  yearning  for  the  company  of 
my  lamp,  and  my  utterly  confused  and  tumbled-over 
library.' 

The  latter  portion  of  the  journal  at  this  period  is 
much  mutilated.  There  is  a  gap  between  April  lo 
and  19,  when,  four  days  after  the  birth  of  Medora,  he 
writes  in  deep  dejection  : 

'  There  is  ice  at  both  poles,  north  and  south — all 
extremes  are  the  same — misery  belongs  to  the  highest 
and  the  lowest,  only  ...  I  will  keep  no  further 
journal  .  .  .  and,  to  prevent  me  from  returning,  like  a 
dog,  to  the  vomit  of  memory,  I  tear  out  the  remaining 
leaves  of  this  volume.  ...  "  O I  fool !  I  shall  go 
mad." ' 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Byron  wrote  the  following 
lines,  in  which  he  tells  Mary  Chaworth  that  all  danger 
of  the  discovery  of  their  secret  is  over  : 

'  There  is  no  more  for  me  to  hope, 

There  is  no  more  for  thee  to  fear  ; 
-  ■  And,  if  I  give  my  sorrow  scope, 

-^  l^i  J,  J  That  sorrow  thou  shalt  never  hear. 

Why  did  I  hold  thy  love  so  dear  ? 
Why  shed  for  such  a  heart  one  tear  ? 
Let  deep  and  dreary  silence  be 
My  only  memory  of  thee  ! 
When  all  are  fled  who  flatter  now, 

Save  thoughts  which  will  not  flatter  then ; 
And  thou  recall'st  the  broken  vow 

To  him  who  must  not  love  again — 
Each  hour  of  noiv  forgotten  years 
Thou,  then,  shalt  number  with  thy  tears ; 
And  every  drop  of  grief  shall  be 
A  vain  remembrancer  of  me !' 

On  May  4,  1814,  Byron  sent  to  Moore  the  following 
verses.     We  quote  from  Lady  Byron's  manuscript : 

'  I  speak  not — I  trace  not — I  breathe  not  thy  name — 
There  is  love  in  the  sound — there  is  Guilt  in  the  fame — 


ATTEMPTS  TO  SUPPRESS  HIS  POEMS    281 

But  the  tear  which  now  burns  on  my  cheek  may  impart 
The  deep  thoughts  that  dwell  in  that  silence  of  heart. 

'  Too  brief  for  our  passion — too  long  for  our  peace — 
Was  that  hour — can  its  hope — can  its  memory  cease  ? 
We  repent — we  abjure — we  will  break  from  our  chain  : 
We  must  part — we  must  fly  to — unite  it  again  ! 

'  Oh  !  thine  be  the  gladness — and  mine  be  the  Guilt ! 
Forgive  me — adored  one — forsake  if  thou  wilt — 
But  the  heart  which  is  thine  shall  expire  undebased, 
And  Man  shall  not  break  it  whatever  thou  mayst. 

'  Oh  !  proud  to  the  mighty — but  humble  to  thee 
This  soul  in  its  bitterest  moment  shall  be, 
And  our  days  glide  as  swift — and  our  moments  more  sweet 
With  thee  at  my  side — than  the  world  at  my  feet. 

'  One  tear  of  thy  sorrow — one  smile  of  thy  love — 
Shall  turn  me  or  fix — shall  reward  or  reprove — 
And  the  heartless  may  wonder  at  all  I  resign  : 
Thy  lip  shall  reply — not  to  them — but  to  mine.' 

These  verses  were  not  published  until  Byron  had 
been  five  years  in  his  grave.  They  tell  the  story 
plainly,  and  the  manuscript  in  Mr.  Murray's  possession 
speaks  plainer  still.  Before  Byron  gave  the  manu- 
script to  his  wife,  he  erased  the  following  lines : 

'  We  have  loved — and  oh  !  still,  my  adored  one,  we  love  !' 
'  Oh  !  the  moment  is  past  when  that  passion  might  cease.' 
'  But  I  cannot  repent  what  we  ne'er  can  recall.' 

After  Medora's  birth  Byron  became  more  and  more 
dejected,  and  on  April  29  he  wrote  a  remarkable  letter 
to  Murray,  enclosing  a  draft  to  redeem  the  copyrights 
of  his  poems,  and  releasing  Murray  from  his  engage- 
ment to  pay  ^1,000,  agreed  on  for  'The  Giaour'  and 
'  The  Bride  of  Abydos.'  Byron  was  evidently  afraid 
that  Mr.  Chaworth  Musters  would  discover  the  truth, 
and  that  a  duel  and  disgrace  would  be  the  inevitable 
consequence. 


282  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

'  If  any  accident  occurs  to  7ne,  you  may  do  then  as  you 
please ;  but,  with  the  exception  of  two  copies  of  each 
ior  yourself  ox\\y,  I  expect  and  request  that  the  adver- 
tisements be  withdrawn,  and  the  remaining  copies  of 
all  destroyed ;  and  any  expense  so  incurred  I  will  be 
glad  to  defray.  For  all  this  it  may  be  well  to  assign 
some  reason,  I  have  none  to  give  except  my  own 
caprice,  and  I  do  not  consider  the  circumstance  of 
consequence  enough  to  require  explanation.  Of  course, 
I  need  hardly  assure  you  that  they  never  shall  be 
published  with  my  consent,  directly  or  indirectly,  by 
any  other  person  whatsoever,  and  that  I  am  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  have  every  reason  so  to  be,  with  your 
conduct  in  all  transactions  between  us,  as  publisher 
and  author.  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  preserve 
your  acquaintance,  and  to  consider  you  as  my  friend.' 

Two  days  later  Byron  seems  to  have  conquered  his 
immediate  apprehensions,  and,  in  reply  to  an  appeal 
from  Murray,  writes : 

'If  your  present  note  is  serious,  and  it  really  would 
be  inconvenient,  there  is  an  end  of  the  matter;  tear 
my  draft,  and  go  on  as  usual :  in  that  case  we  will 
recur  to  our  former  basis.  That  /  was  perfectly 
serious  in  wishing  to  suppress  all  future  publication 
is  true ;  but  certainly  not  to  interfere  with  the  con- 
venience of  others,  and  more  particularly  your  own. 
Some  day  I  will  tell  you  the  reason  of  this  apparently 
strange  resolution.'' 

It  had  evidently  dawned  on  Byron's  mind  that  a 
sudden  suppression  of  his  poems  would  have  aroused 
public  curiosity,  and  that  a  motive  for  his  action  would 
either  have  been  found  or  invented.  This  would  have 
been  fatal  to  all  concerned.  If  trouble  were  to  come, 
it  would  be  wiser  not  to  meet  it  halfway.  Happily, 
the  birth  of  Medora  passed  unnoticed. 

As  time  wore  on,  Byron's  hopes  that  Mary  would 
relent  grew  apace.  But  he  was  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment. Mary  Chaworth  had  the  courage  and  the  wisdom 


LAST  MEETING  WITH  THYRZA        283 

to  crush  a  love  so  disastrous  to  both.  Byron  in  his 
blindness  reproached  her : 

'  Thou  art  not  false,  but  thou  art  fickle.' 

He  tells  her  that  he  would  despise  her  if  she  were 
false ;  but  he  knows  that  her  love  is  sincere : 

*  When  she  can  change  who  loved  so  truly  !' 

*  Ah  !  sure  such  grief  is  Fancy's  scheming, 
And  all  the  Change  can  be  but  dreaming  !' 

He  could  not  believe  that  her  resolve  was  serious. 
Time  taught  him  better.  Love  died,  and  friendship 
took  its  place.  The  same  love  that  tempted  her  to 
sin  was  that  true  love  that  works  out  its  redemp- 
tion. 

Between  April  15  and  21,  1816,  before  signing  the 
deed  of  separation,  Byron  went  into  the  country  to 
take  leave  of  Mary  Chaworth.  It  was  their  last  meet- 
ing, and  the  parting  must  have  been  a  sad  one.  The 
hopes  that  Mary  had  formed  for  his  peace  and  happi- 
ness in  marriage  had  suddenly  been  dashed  to  the 
ground.  And  now  he  was  about  to  leave  England 
under  a  cloud,  which  threatened  for  a  time  to  over- 
whelm them  both.  A  terrible  anxiety  as  to  the  issue 
of  investigations,  which  were  being  made  into  his 
conduct  previous  to  and  during  his  marriage,  op- 
pressed her  with  the  gravest  apprehension.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  depend  upon  the  silence  both  of 
Byron  and  Augusta.  Under  this  awful  strain  the 
mind  of  Mary  Chaworth  was  flickering  towards  col- 
lapse. By  the  following  verses,  which  must  have 
been  written  soon  after  their  final  meeting,  we  find 

Byron, 

'  Seared  in  heart — and  lone — and  blighted,' 

reproaching,  with  a  lover's  injustice,  the  woman  he 


284  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

adored,  for  that  act  of  renunciation  which,  under 
happier  auspices,  might  have  proved  his  own  salva- 
tion: 

I. 

•  When  we  two  parted 

In  silence  and  tears, 
Half  broken-hearted 

To  sever  for  years, 
Pale  grew  thy  cheek  and  cold, 

Colder  thy  kiss ; 
Truly  that  hour  foretold 

Sorrow  to  this. 

II. 

'  The  dew  of  the  morning 

Sunk  chill  on  my  brow — 
It  felt  like  the  warning 

Of  what  I  feel  now. 
Thy  vows  are  all  broken, 

And  light  is  thy  fame : 
I  hear  thy  name  spoken, 

And  share  in  its  shame. 

III. 
'  They  name  thee  before  me, 

A  knell  to  mine  ear  ; 
A  shudder  comes  o'er  me — 
Why  wert  thou  so  dear  ? 
They  know  not  I  knew  thee. 
Who  knew  thee  too  well : 
Long,  long  shall  I  rue  thee, 
Too  deeply  to  tell. 

IV. 

'  In  secret  we  met — 

In  silence  I  grieve, 
That  thy  heart  could  forget, 

Thy  spirit  deceive. 
If  I  should  meet  thee 

After  long  years, 
How  should  I  greet  thee? 

With  silence  and  tears.' 


IF  LADY  BYRON  HAD  KNOWN  285 

In  the  first  draft  Byron  had  written,  after  the  second 
verse,  the  following  words  : 

*  Our  secret  lies  hidden, 
But  never  forgot.' 

In  'Fare  Thee  Well,'  written  on  March  17,  1816, 
there  are  only  four  lines  which  have  any  bearing  on 
the  point  under  consideration. 

Byron  tells  his  wife  that  if  she  really  knew  the  truth, 
if  every  inmost  thought  of  his  breast  were  bared  before 
her,  she  would  not  have  forsaken  him. 

That  is  true.  Lady  Byron  might,  in  time,  have 
forgiven  everything  if  the  doctors  had  been  able  to 
declare  that  her  husband  was  not  wholly  accountable 
for  his  actions.  But  when  they  pronounced  him  to  be 
of  sound  mind,  and,  as  will  be  seen  presently,  she 
subsequently  convinced  herself  that  he  had  committed, 
and  might  even  then  be  committing  adultery  with  his 
sister  under  her  own  roof,  she  resolved  never  again 
to  place  herself  in  his  power.  If,  in  the  early  stages 
of  disagreement,  without  betraying  Mary  Chaworth, 
it  could  have  been  avowed  that  Mrs.  Leigh  was  not 
the  mother  of  Medora,  Lady  Byron  might  not  have 
seen  in  her  husband's  strange  conduct  towards  her- 
self '  signs  of  a  deep  remorse.'  She  would  certainly 
have  been  far  more  patient  under  suffering,  and  the 
separation  might  have  been  avoided.  But  this  avowal 
was  impracticable.  Augusta  had  committed  herself 
too  far  for  that,  and  the  idle  gossip  of  her  servants 
subsequently  convinced  Lady  Byron  that  Byron  was 
the  father  of  Augusta's  child.  It  is  clear  that  neither 
Augusta  nor  Byron  made  any  attempts  to  remove 
those  suspicions ;  in  fact,  they  acted  in  a  manner 
most  certain  to  confirm  them.  Whether  the  secret, 
which   they  had   pledged   themselves  to  keep,  could 


TV:.    286 


WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 


long  have  been  withheld  from  Lady  Byron,  if  matters 
^  had  been   patched   up,    is   doubtful.      Meanwhile,   as 
everything  depended  on  premat  nox  alta,  they  dared 
not  risk  even  a  partial  avowal  of  the  truth. 

The  separation  was  inevitable,  and  in  this  case  it 
was  eternal.  It  is  hard  to  believe  that  there  had  ever 
been  any  real  love  on  either  side.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances we  feel  sure  that  any  attempts  at  reconcilia- 
tion would  have  ended  disastrously  for  both.  Byron's 
love  for  Mary  Chaworth  was  strong  as  death.  Many 
waters  could  not  have  quenched  it,  '  neither  could  the 
floods  drown  it.'  '  ■.       '\^     C\^     «^.«4-0         "^ 

The  last  verses  written  by  Byron  before  he  left 
England  for  ever  were  addressed  to  his  sister.  The 
deed  of  separation  had  been  signed,  and  Augusta 
Leigh,  who  had  stood  at  his  side  in  those  dark  hours 
when  all  the  world  had  forsaken  him,  was  about  to 
le^ve  London. 


"^ 


li'"^^ 


'  When  all  around  grew  drear  and  dark, 

And  Reason  half  withheld  her  ray — 
And  Hope  but  shed  a  dying  spark 

Which  more  misled  my  lonely  way ; 
When  Fortune  changed,  and  Love  fled  far, 

And  Hatred's  shafts  flew  thick  and  fast, 
Thou  wert  the  solitary  star 

Which  rose,  and  set  not  to  the  last.  * 

And  when  the  cloud  upon  us  came 

Which  strove  to  blacken  o'er  thy  ray — 
Then  purer  spread  its  gentle  flame 

And  dashed  the  darkness  all  away. 
Still  may  thy  Spirit  dwell  on  mine,  '^ 

And  teach  it  what  to  brave  or  brook — 
There's  more  in  one  soft  word  of  thine 

Than  in  the  world's  defied  rebuke. 
***** 
Then  let  the  ties  of  baffled  love 
Be  broken — thine  will  never  break ; 
Thy  heart  can  feel.' 


-i 


^ 


i^O 


1!f  it 


BYRON  TRUSTS  AUGUSTA     287 

These  ingenuous  words  show  that  Byron's  affection 
for  his  sister,  and  his  gratitude  for  her  loyalty,  were 
both  deep  and  sincere.  If,  as  Lord  Lovelace  asserts, 
Byron  had  been  her  lover,  we  know  enough  of  his 
character  to  be  certain  that  he  would  never  have 
written  these  lines.  He  was  not  a  hypocrite — far  from 
it — and  it  was  foreign  to  his  naturally  combative  nature 
to  attempt  to  conciliate  public  opinion.  These  lines 
were  written  currente  calamo,  and  are  only  interesting 
to  us  on  account  of  the  light  they  cast  upon  the  situa- 
tion at  the  time  of  the  separation.  Evidently  Byron 
had  heard  a  rumour  of  the  baseless  charge  that  was 
afterwards  openly  made.  He  reminds  Augusta  that  a 
cloud  threatened  to  darken  her  existence,  but  the  bright 
rays  of  her  purity  dispelled  it.  He  hopes  that  even  in 
absence  she  will  guide  and  direct  him  as  in  the  past  ; 
and  he  compliments  her  by  saying  that  one  word  from 
her  had  more  influence  over  him  than  the  whole 
world's  censure.  Although  his  love-episode  with 
Mary  was  over,  yet  so  long  as  Augusta  loves  him  he 
will  still  have  something  to  live  for,  as  she  alone  can 
feel  for  him  and  understand  his  position. 

In  speaking  of  his  sister,  in  the  third  canto  of 
*  Childe  Harold,'  he  says  : 

'  For  there  was  soft  Remembrance,  and  sweet  Trust 
In  one  fond  breast,  to  which  his  own  would  melt.' 

'  And  he  had  learned  to  love — I  know  not  why, 
For  this  in  such  as  him  seems  strange  of  mood — 
The  helpless  looks  of  blooming  Infancy, 
Even  in  its  earliest  nurture ;  what  subdued, 
To  change  like  this,  a  mind  so  far  imbued 
With  scorn  of  man,  it  little  boots  to  know ; 
But  thus  it  was ;  and  though  in  solitude 
Small  power  the  nipped  affections  have  to  grow, 
In  him  this  glowed  when  all  beside  had  ceased  to  glow.' 


288  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

If  these  words  bear  any  significance,  Byron  must 
mean  that,  since  the  preceding  canto  of  'Childe  Harold' 
was  written,  he  had  formed  (learned  to  love)  a  strong 
attachment  to  some  child,  and,  in  spite  of  absence,  this 
affection  still  glowed.  That  child  may  possibly  have 
been  Ada,  as  the  opening  lines  seem  to  suggest.  But 
this  is  not  quite  certain.  According  to  Lord  Lovelace, 
Byron  never  saw  his  child  after  January  3,  18 16,  when 
the  babe  was  only  twenty-four  days  old.  Byron  him- 
self states  that  it  was  not  granted  to  him  *  to  watch 
her  dawn  of  little  joys,  or  hold  her  lightly  on  his  knee, 
and  print  on  her  soft  cheek  a  parent's  kiss.'  All  this, 
he  tells  us,  'was  in  his  nature,'  but  was  denied  to  him. 
His  sole  consolation  was  the  hope  that  some  day  Ada 
would  learn  to  love  him.  On  the  other  hand,  the  child 
mentioned  in  '  Childe  Harold '  had  won  his  love  by 
means  which  '  it  little  boots  to  know.'  If  Byron  had 
alluded  to  his  daughter  Ada,  there  need  have  been  no 
ambiguity.  Possibly  the  child  here  indicated  may 
have  been  little  Medora,  then  three  years  old,  with 
whom  he  had  often  played,  and  who  was  then  living 
with  that  sister  of 'Soft  Remembrance  and  sweet  Trust.' 

If  that  conjecture  be  correct,  this  is  the  only  allusion 
to  Medora  in  Byron's  poetry.  But  she  is  indicated  in 
prose.  In  reference  to  the  death  of  one  of  Moore's 
children,  Byron  wrote  (February  2,  1818) : 

*  I  know  how  to  feel  with  you,  because  I  am  quite 
wrapped  up  in  my  own  children.  Besides  my  little 
legitimate,  I  have  made  unto  myself  an  illegitimate 
since,  to  say  nothing  of  one  before ;  and  I  look  forward 
to  one  of  them  as  the  pillar  of  my  old  age,  supposing 
that  I  ever  reach,  as  I  hope  I  never  shall,  that  desolat- 
ing period.' 

In  the  one  before  Moore  will  have  recognized  Medora. 
In  spite  of  the  *  scarlet  cloak  and  double  figure,'  Moore 


'THE  DREAM'  289 

had  no  belief  in  the  story  that  Byron  became  a  father 
while  at  Harrow  School ! 

'The  Dream,'  which  was  written  in  July,  i8i6,  is 
perhaps  more  widely  known  than  any  of  Byron's 
poems.  Its  theme  is  the  remembrance  of  a  hope- 
less passion,  which  neither  Time  nor  Reason  could 
extinguish.  Similar  notes  of  lamentation  permeate 
most  of  his  poems,  but  in  *  The  Dream '  Byron,  for 
the  first  time,  takes  the  world  into  his  confidence,  and 
tells  his  tale  of  woe  with  such  distinctness  that  we 
realize  its  truth,  its  passion,  and  its  calamity.  The 
publication  of  that  poem  was  an  indiscretion  which 
must  have  been  very  disconcerting  to  his  sister. 
Fortunately,  it  had  no  disastrous  consequences.  It 
apparently  awakened  no  suspicions,  and  its  sole  effect 
was  to  incense  Mary  Chaworth's  husband,  who,  in 
order  to  stop  all  prattle,  caused  the  '  peculiar  diadem 
of  trees '  to  be  cut  down.  In  Byron's  early  poems  we 
see  how  deeply  Mary  Chaworth's  marriage  affected 
him ;  but  this  was  known  only  to  a  small  circle  of 
Southwell  friends.  In  *  The  Dream '  we  realize  that 
she  was  in  fact  a  portion  of  his  life,  and  that  his  own 
marriage  had  not  in  the  least  affected  his  feelings 
towards  her.  He  had  tried  hard  to  forget  her,  but  in 
vain;  she  was  his  destiny.  Whether  Byron,  when  he 
wrote  this  poem,  had  any  idea  of  publishing  it  to 
the  world  is  not  known.  It  may  possibly  have  been 
written  to  relieve  his  overburdened  mind,  and  would 
not  have  seen  the  light  but  for  Lady  Byron's  treatment 
of  Mrs.  Leigh  on  the  memorable  occasion  when  she 
extracted,  under  promise  of  secrecy,  the  so-called 
*  Confession,' to  which  we  shall  allude  presently.  In 
any  case,  Byron  became  aware  of  what  had  happened 
in  September,  1816.     In  some  lines  addressed  to  his 

19 


290  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

wife,  he  tells  her  that  she  bought  others'  grief  at  any 

price,  adding : 

'  The  means  were  worthy,  and  the  end  is  won  ; 
I  would  not  do  by  thee  as  ihou  hast  done.' 

Possibly,  Byron  may  have  thought  that  the  publica- 
tion of  this  poem  would  act  as  a  barb,  and  would 
wound  Lady  Byron's  stubborn  pride.  Its  appear- 
ance in  the  circumstances  was  certainly  contra  bonos 
mores,  but  we  must  remember  that  '  men  in  rage  often 
strike  those  who  wish  them  best.'  Whatever  may 
have  been  Byron's  intention,  *  The  Dream '  affords  a 
proof  that  Mary  Chaworth  was  never  long  absent 
from  his  thoughts.  At  this  time,  when  he  felt  a  deep 
remorse  for  his  conduct  towards  Mary  Chaworth,  he 
asks  himself: 

'  What  is  this  Death  ?  a  quiet  of  the  heart  ? 
The  whole  of  that  of  which  we  are  a  part  ? 
For  Life  is  but  a  vision — what  I  see 
Of  all  which  Hves  alone  is  Life  to  mc, 
And  being  so — the  absent  are  the  dead 
Who  haunt  us  from  tranquillity,  and  spread 
A  dreary  shroud  around  us,  and  invest 
With  sad  remembrancers  our  hours  of  rest. 
The  absent  are  the  dead — for  they  are  cold, 
And  ne'er  can  be  what  once  we  did  behold; 
And  they  are  changed,  and  cheerless, — or  if  yet 
The  unforgotten  do  not  all  forget, 
Since  thus  divided — equal  must  it  be 
If  the  deep  barrier  be  of  earth,  or  sea  ; 
It  may  be  both — but  one  day  end  it  must 
In  the  dark  union  of  insensate  dust.' 

It  was  at  this  time  also  that  Byron  wrote  his 
*  Stanzas  to  Augusta,'  which  show  his  complete  con- 
fidence in  her  loyalty : 

'  Though  human,  thou  didst  not  deceive  me, 

Though  woman,  thou  didst  not  forsake, 
Though  loved,  thou  forborest  to  grieve  me, 
Though  tempted,  thou  never  couldst  shake ; 


'MANFRED'  291 

Though  trusted,  thou  didst  not  betray  me, 

Though  parted,  it  was  not  to  fly, 
Though  watchful,  'twas  not  to  defame  mc, 

Nor,  mute,  that  the  world  might  belie' 

Byron's  remorse  also  found  expression  in  *  Manfred,' 
where  contrition  is  but  slightly  veiled  by  words  of 
mysterious  import,  breathed  in  an  atmosphere  of 
mountains,  magic,  and  ghost-lore.  People  in  society, 
whose  ears  had  been  poisoned  by  insinuations  against 
Mrs.  Leigh,  and  who  knew  nothing  of  Byron's  inter- 
course with  Mary  Chaworth,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  *  Manfred  '  revealed  a  criminal  attachment  between 
Byron  and  his  sister.  Byron  was  aware  of  this,  and, 
conscious  of  his  innocence,  held  his  head  in  proud 
defiance,  and  laughed  his  enemies  to  scorn.  He  did 
not  deign  to  defend  himself;  and  the  public — forgetful 
of  the  maxim  that  where  there  is  a  sense  of  guilt  there 
is  a  jealousy  of  drawing  attention  to  it — believed  the 
worst.  When  a  critique  of  '  Manfred,'  giving  an 
account  of  the  supposed  origin  of  the  story,  was  sent 
to  Byron,  he  wrote  to  Murray : 

'The  conjecturer  is  out,  and  knows  nothing  of  the 
matter.  I  had  a  better  origin  than  he  can  devise  or 
divine  for  the  soul  of  him.' 

That  was  the  simple  truth.  The  cruel  allegation 
against  Mrs.  Leigh  seemed  to  be  beneath  contempt. 
As  Sir  Egerton  Brydges  pointed  out  at  the  time, 
Byron,  being  of  a  strong  temperament,  did  not  reply 
to  the  injuries  heaped  upon  him  by  whining  com- 
plaints and  cowardly  protestations  of  innocence;  he 
became  desperate,  and  broke  out  into  indignation, 
sarcasm,  and  exposure  of  his  opponents,  in  a  manner 
so  severe  as  to  seem  inexcusably  cruel  to  those  who 
did  not  realize  the  provocation.  It  was  'war  to  the 
knife,'  and  Byron  had  the  best  of  it. 

19 — 2 


292 


WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 


We  propose  to  examine  *  Manfred '  closely,  to  see 
whether  Astarte  in  any  degree  resembles  the  descrip- 
tion which  Lord  Lovelace  has  given  of  Augusta  Leigh. 

Manfred  tells  us  that  his  slumbers  are  '  a  continuance 
of  enduring  thought,'  since  that  'all-nameless  hour' 
when  he  committed  the  crime  for  which  he  suffers. 
He  asks  '  Forgetfulness  of  that  which  is  within  him — 
a  crime  which  he  cannot  utter.'  When  told  by  the 
Seven  Spirits  that  he  cannot  have  self-oblivion,  Man- 
fred asks  if  Death  would  give  it  to  him ;  and  receives 
*  the  sad  reply  that,  being  immortal,  the  spirit  after 
death  cannot  forget  the  past. 

Eventually  the  Seventh  Spirit — typifying,  possibly, 
a  Magdalen — appears  before  Manfred,  in  the  shape  of 
a  beautiful  woman. 

'  Manfred.  Oh  God  !  if  it  be  thus,  and  thou 
Art  not  a  madness  and  a  mockery, 
I  yet  might  be  most  happy.' 

When  the  figure  vanishes,  Manfred  falls  senseless. 
In  the  second  act,  Manfred,  in  reply  to  the  chamois- 
^-  hunter,  who  offers  him  a  cup  of  wine,  says  : 


r 


*v 


:i 


'  Away,  away  !  there's  blood  upon  the  brim  ! 
Will  it  then  never — never  sink  in  the  earth  ? 

'Tis  blood — my  blood  !  the  pure  warm  stream 
Which  ran  in  the  veins  of  my  fathers,  and  in  ours 
When  we  were  in  our  youth,  and  had  one  heart, 
And  loved  each  other  as  we  should  not  love, 
And  tliis  was  shed  :  but  still  it  rises  up. 
Colouring  the  clouds  that  shut  me  out  from  Heaven.' 


One  may  well  wonder  what  all  this  has  to  do  with 
Augusta.  The  blood  that  ran  in  Byron's  veins  also 
ran  in  the  veins  of  Mary  Chaworth,  and  that  blood,  ^ 
shed  by  Byron's  kinsman,  had  caused  a  feud,  which 
was  not  broken  until  Byron  came  upon  the  scene,  and 
fell  hopelessly  in  love  with  '  the  last  of  a  time-honoured 


'THE  DUEL'  293 

race.'     Byron  from  his  boyhood  always  believed  that 
there  was  a  blood-curse  upon  him. 

When,  two  years  later,  he  wrote  *  The  Duel ' 
(December,  1818),  he  again  alludes  to  the  subject : 

'  I  loved  thee — I  will  not  say  how,  '  '^SaJL    OM*'*^    t^'-vC^j 

Since  things  like  these  are  best  forgot :     J^,^  ^jUA^jr.%.     ^ 

Perhaps  thou  mayst  imagine  now  '    ' 

Who  loved  thee  and  who  loved  thee  not. 
And  thou  wert  wedded  to  another, 

And  I  at  last  another  wedded : 
I  am  a  father,  thou  a  mother, 

To  strangers  vowed,  with  strangers  bedded. 

'  Many  a  bar,  and  many  a  feud. 
Though  never  told,  well  understood. 
Rolled  like  a  river  wide  between — 
And  then  there  -d'as  the  curse  of  blood, 
Which  even  my  Heart's  can  not  remove. 

***** 
'  I've  seen  the  sword  that  slew  him ;  he, 
The  slain,  stood  in  a  like  degree 
To  thee,  as  he,  the  Slayer  stood 
(Oh,  had  it  been  but  other  blood  !) 
In  Kin  and  Chieftainship  to  me. 
Thus  came  the  Heritage  to  thee.' 

Clearly,  then,  the  Spirit,  which  appeared  to  Manfred 
in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  female  figure,  was  Mary 
Chaworth;  the  crime  for  which  he  suffered  was  his 
conduct  towards  her;  and  the  blood,  which  his  fancy 
beheld  on  the  cup's  brim,  was  the  blood  of  William 
Chaworth,  which  his  predecessor.  Lord  Byron,  had 
shed.  When  asked  by  the  chamois-hunter  whether 
he  had  wreaked  revenge  upon  his  enemies,  Manfred 
replies : 

'  No,  no,  no  ! 
My  injuries  came  down  on  those  who  loved  me — 
On  those  whom  I  best  loved  :  I  never  quelled 
An  enemy,  save  in  my  just  defence — 
But  my  embrace  was  fatal.' 


294  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

In  speaking  of  the  *  core  of  his  heart's  grief/  Manfred 

says  : 

'  Yet  there  was  One — 
She  was  Hke  me  in  lineaments — her  eyes — 
Her  hair — her  features — all,  to  the  very  tone 
Even  of  her  voice,  they  said  were  like  to  mine ; 
But  softened  all,  and  tempered  into  beauty : 
She  had  the  same  lone  thoughts  and  wanderings,* 
The  quest  of  hidden  knowledge,  and  a  mind 
To  comprehend  the  Universe  :  nor  these 
Alone,  but  with  them  gentler  powers  than  mine, 
Pity,  and  smiles,  and  tears — which  I  had  not ; 
And  tenderness — but  that  I  had  for  her ; 
Humility — and  that  I  never  had. 
Her  faults  were  mine — her  virtues  were  her  own — 
I  loved  her,  and  destroyed  her  ! 
Not  with  my  hand,  but  heart,  which  broke  her  heart  j 
It  gazed  on  mine,  and  withered.' 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  absurdity  of  connecting 
this  description  with  Augusta,  we  will  quote  her  noble 
accuser,  Lord  Lovelace : 

'The  character  of  Augusta  is  seen  in  her  letters  and 
actions.  She  was  a  woman  of  that  great  family  which 
is  vague  about  facts,  unconscious  of  duties,  impulsive 
in  conduct.  The  course  of  her  life  could  not  be  other- 
wise explained,  by  those  who  had  looked  into  it  with 
close  intimacy,  than  by  a  kind  of  moral  idiotcy  from 
birth.  She  was  of  a  sanguine  and  buoyant  disposition, 
childishly  fond  and  playful,  ready  to  laugh  at  anything, 
loving  to  talk  nonsense.' 

In  fact, 

'  She  had  the  same  lone  thoughts  and  wanderings, 
The  quest  of  liiddcn  knowledge,  and  a  mind 
To  comprehend  the  Universe.' 

Lord  Lovelace  further  tells  us  that  Augusta  Leigh 
'had  a  refined  species  of  comic  talent';  that  she  was 

*  See  the  poem  '  Remember  Him  ' :  '  Thy  soul  from  long  seclusion 
pure.' 


'MANFRED'  295 

'  strangely  insensible  to  the  nature  and  magnitude  of 
the  offence  in  question  [incest]  even  as  an  imputation ;' 
and  that  '  there  was  apparently  an  absence  of  all  deep 
feeling  in  her  mind,  of  everything  on  which  a  strong 
impression  could  be  made.'  We  are  also  told  that 
*  Byron,  after  his  marriage,  generally  spoke  of  Augusta 
as  "a  fool,"  with  equal  contempt  of  her  understanding 
and  principles.' 

In  short,  Byron's  description  of  the  woman,  whom 
he  had  *  destroyed,'  resembles  Augusta  Leigh  about  as 
much  as  a  mountain  resembles  a  haystack.  How  closely 
Manfred's  description  resembles  Mary  Chaworth  will 
be  seen  presently.  Augusta  Leigh  had  told  Byron 
that,  in  consequence  of  his  conduct,  Mary  Chaworth 
was  out  of  her  mind. 

Manfred  says  that  if  he  had  never  lived,  that  which 
he  loved  had  still  been  living  : 

' .  .  .  Had  I  never  loved, 
That  which  I  love  would  still  be  beautiful, 
Happy,  and  giving  happiness.     What  is  she  ? 
What  is  she  now?    A  sufferer  for  my  sins — 
A  thing  I  dare  not  think  upon — or  nothing.' 

When  Nemesis  asks  Manfred  whom  he  would  '  un- 
charnel,'  he  replies : 

'  One  without  a  tomb — 
Call  up  Astarte.' 

The  name,  of  course,  suggests  a  star.  As  we  have 
seen,  Byron  often  employed  that  metaphor  in  allusion 
to  Mary  Chaworth. 

When  the  phantom  of  Astarte  rises,  Manfred  ex- 
claims : 

'  Can  this  be  death  ?  there's  bloom  upon  her  cheek ; 
But  now  I  see  it  is  no  living  hue, 
But  a  strange  hectic' 


296  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

He  is  afraid  to  look  upon  her ;  he  cannot  speak  to 
her,  and  implores  Nemesis  to  intercede  : 

'  Bid  her  speak — 
Forgive  me,  or  condemn  me.' 

Nemesis  tells  him  that  she  has  no  authority  over 
Astarte : 

'  She  is  not  of  our  order,  but  belongs 
To  the  other  powers.'* 

The  fine  appeal  of  Manfred  cannot  have  been 
addressed  by  Byron  to  his  sister : 

'  Hear  me,  hear  me — 
Astarte  !  my  beloved  !  speak  to  me  : 
I  have  so  much  endured — so  much  endure — 
Look  on  me  !  the  grave  hath  not  changed  thee  more 
Than  I  am  changed  for  thee.     Thou  lovedst  me 
Too  much,  as  I  loved  thee  :  we  were  not  made 
To  torture  thus  each  other — though  it  were 
The  deadliest  sin  to  love  as  we  have  loved. 
Say  that  thou  loath'st  me  not — that  I  do  bear 
This  punishment  for  both — that  thou  wilt  be 
One  of  the  blessed — and  that  I  shall  die. 

***** 
'  I  cannot  rest. 
I  know  not  what  I  ask,  nor  what  I  seek : 
I  feel  but  what  thou  art,  and  what  I  am; 
And  I  would  hear  yet  once  before  I  perish 
The  voice  which  was  my  music f — speak  to  me  ! 

***** 
Speak  to  me  !  I  have  wandered  o'er  the  earth, 
And  never  found  thy  likeness.' 

When  Manfred  implores  Astarte  to  forgive  him, 
she  is  silent.  It  is  not  a  matter  for  forgiveness.  He 
entreats  her  to  speak  to  him,  so  that  he  may  once 
more  hear  that  sweet  voice,  even   though  it  be  for 

*  '  Ophelia.  O  heavenly  powers,  restore  him  !' 

Hamlet,  Act  III.,  Scene  i. 
f  '  The  song,  celestial  from  thy  voice, 
Rut  sweet  to  me  from  none  but  thine.' 

Poetry  of  Byron,  vol.  iv. :  'To  Thyrza.' 


m.^ 


'  LAMENT  OF  TASSO  '  297 

the  last  time.  The  silence  is  broken  by  the  word 
'  Farewell !'  Manfred,  whose  doom  is  sealed,  cries  in 
agony : 

'  What  I  have  done  is  done ;  I  bear  within 
A  torture  which  could  nothing  gain  (from  others). 
The  Mind,  which  is  immortal,  makes  itself 
Requital  for  its  good  or  evil  thoughts, — 
Is  its  own  origin  of  ill  and  end — 
And  its  own  place  and  time  : 
I  was  my  own  destroyer,  and  will  be 
My  own  hereafter.  .  .  . 
The  hand  of  Death  is  on  me.  .  .  . 
All  things  swim  around  me,  and  the  Earth 
Heaves,  as  it  were,  beneath  me.     Fare  thee  well !' 

So  far  as  we  know,  there  is  nothing  in  the  whole 
length  of  this  poem  to  suggest  anything  abnormal ; 
and  it  is  hard  to  understand  what  resemblance  Byron's 
contemporaries  could  have  discovered  between  the 
Astarte  of  *  Manfred '  and  Augusta  Leigh !  Enough 
has  been  quoted  to  show  that  Byron  was  not  thinking 
of  his  sister  when  he  wrote  *  Manfred,'  but  of  her 
whose  life  he  had  blasted,  and  whose  '  sacred  name ' 
he  trembled  to  reveal. 

In  April,  181 7,  Byron  was  informed  by  Mrs.  Leigh 
that  Mary  Chaworth  and  her  husband  had  made  up 
their  differences.  The  '  Lament  of  Tasso '  was  written 
in  that  month,  and  Byron's  thoughts  were  occupied,  as 
usual,  with  the  theme  of  all  his  misery. 

'  That  thou  wert  beautiful,  and  I  not  blind, 
Hath  been  the  sin  that  shuts  me  from  mankind  ; 
But  let  them  go,  or  torture  as  they  will, 
My  heart  can  multiply  thine  image  still ; 
Successful  Love  may  sate  itself  away  ; 

The  wretched  are  the  faithful ;  'tis  their  fate 
To  have  all  feehng,  save  the  one,  decay. 

And  every  passion  into  one  dilate, 
As  rapid  rivers  into  Ocean  pour ; 
But  ours  is  fathomless,  and  hath  no  shore.' 


298  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

In  'Mazeppa'  Byron  tells  how  he  met  'Theresa'  in 
that  month  of  June,  and  how  *  through  his  brain  the 
thought  did  pass  that  there  was  something  in  her  air 
which  would  not  doom  him  to  despair.'  This  incident 
is  again  referred  to  in  '  Don  Juan.'  The  Count  Palatine 
is,  probably,  intended  as  a  sketch  of  Mary's  husband. 

'The  Duel,' which  was  written  in  December,  1818, 
is  addressed  to  Mary  Chaworth  : 

'  I  loved  thee — I  will  not  say  how, 
Since  things  like  these  are  best  forgot.' 

Byron  alludes  to  *  the  curse  of  blood,'  with,  '  many 
a  bar  and  many  a  feud,'  which  '  rolled  like  a  wide  river 
between  them ' : 

'  Alas  I  how  many  things  have  been 
Since  we  were  friends  ;  for  I  alone 
Feel  more  for  thee  than  can  be  shown.' 

In  the  so-called  'Stanzas  to  the  Po,'  we  find  the 
same  prolonged  note  of  suffering.  Writing  to  Murray 
(May  8,  1820),  Byron  says  : 

'  I  sent  a  copy  of  verses  to  Mr.  Kinnaird  (they  were 
written  last  year  on  crossing  the  Po)  which  must  not 
be  published.  Pray  recollect  this,  as  they  were  mere 
verses  of  society,  and  written  from  private  feelings 
and  passions.' 

In  view  of  the  secrecy  which  Byron  consistently 
observed,  respecting  his  later  intimacy  with  Mary 
Chaworth,  the  publication  of  these  verses  would  have 
been  highly  indiscreet.  They  were  written  in  June, 
1819,  after  Mary  had  for  some  time  been  reconciled 
to  her  husband.  She  was  then  living  with  him  at 
Colwick  Hall,  near  Nottingham. 

Ostensibly  these  stanzas  form  an  apostrophe  to  the 
River  Po,  and  the  '  lady  of  the  land  '  was,  of  course,  the 
Guiccioli.     Medwin,  to  whom  Byron  gave  the  poem, 


STANZAS  TO  THE  PC  299 


believed  that  the  river  apostrophized  by  the  poet  was 

the  River  Po,  whose  '  deep  and  ample  stream  '  was  '  the 

mirror  of  his  heart.'     But  it  seems  perfectly  clear  that,     ' 

if  this  poem  referred  only  to  the  Countess  Guiccioli, 

there  could  have  been  no  objection  to  its  publication  "~p^o   £^ 

in  England,     The  reading  public  in  those  days  knew    '. 

nothing  of  Byron's  liaisons   abroad,   and  his  mystic 

allusion   to   foreign   rivers  and  foreign  ladies  would 

have  left  the  British  public  cold. 

^  A  scrutiny   of  these   perplexing  stanzas   suggests 

that  they  were  adapted,  from  a  fragment  written  in 

early  life,  to  meet  the  conditions  of  18 19.     Evidently 

Mary  Chaworth  was  once  more  '  the  ocean  to  the  river 

of  his   thoughts,'   and   the    stream    indicated    in  the 

opening  stanza  was  not  the  Po,  but  the  River  Trent, 

which   flows  close  to   the  ancient  walls   of  Colwick, 

where  *  the  lady  of  his  love  '  was  then  residing.     To  j 

assist  the  reader,  we  insert  the  poem,  having  merely 

transposed  three  stanzas  to  make  its  purport  clearer 


'  River,  that  rollest  by  the  ancient  walls, 

Where  dwells  the  Lady  of  my  love,  when  she 
Walks  by  thy  brink,  and  there  perchance  recalls 
A  faint  and  fleeting  memory  of  me  : 

II. 

'  She  will  look  on  thee — I  have  looked  on  thee. 

Full  of  that  thought :  and  from  that  moment  ne'er 
Thy  waters  could  I  dream  of,  name,  or  see 
Without  the  inseparable  sigh  for  her  ! 

III. 

'  But  that  which  keepeth  us  apart  is  not 

Distance,  nor  depth  of  wave,  nor  space  of  earth, 
But  the  distraction  of  a  various  lot, 
As  various  as  the  climates  of  our  birth. 


Wt^-N. 


300  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

IV. 

'  What  if  thy  deep  and  ample  stream  should  be 

A  mirror  of  my  heart,  where  she  may  read 
The  thousand  thoughts  /  now  betray  to  thee, 
Wild  as  thy  wave,  and  headlong  as  thy  speed  ! 

V. 

'  What  do  I  say — a  mirror  of  my  heart  ? 

Are  not  thy  waters  sweeping,  dark,  and  strong  ? 
Such  as  my  feelings  were  and  are,  thou  art ; 
And  such  as  thou  art  were  my  passions  long. 

VI. 

'  Time  may  have  somewhat  tamed  them — not  for  ever; 
Thou  overflowest  thy  banks,  and  not  for  aye 
Thy  bosom  overboils,  congenial  river  ! 

Thy  floods  subside,  and  mine  have  sunk  away : 

VII. 

'  But  left  long  wrecks  behind,  and  now  again. 

Borne  on  our  old  unchanged  career,  we  move : 
Thou  tendest  wildly  onwards  to  the  main, 
And  I, — to  loving  one  I  should  not  love. 

VIII. 

'  My  blood  is  all  meridian  ;  were  it  not, 
I  had  not  left  my  clime,  nor  should  I  be. 
In  spite  of  tortures,  ne'er  to  be  forgot, 
A  slave  again  to  Love — at  least  of  thee. 

IX. 

'  The  current  I  behold  will  sweep  beneath 
Her  native  walls,*  and  murmur  at  her  feet ; 
Her  eyes  will  look  on  thee,  when  she  shall  breathe 
The  twilight  air,  unharmed  by  summer's  heat. 

X. 

'  Her  bright  eyes  will  be  imaged  in  thy  stream. 
Yes,  they  will  meet  the  wave  I  gaze  on  now  : 
Mine  cannot  witness,  even  in  a  dream. 
That  happy  wave  repass  me  in  its  flow  ! 

*  '  Siede  la  terra,  dove  nata  fui, 

Su  la  marina  dove  il  Po  discende.' 

Inferno,  Canto  V,,  97,  98. 


STANZAS  TO  THE  PO'  301 


XI. 


'  The  wave  that  bears  my  tears  returns  no  more : 

Will  she  return  by  whom  that  wave  shall  sweep  ?■■ 
Both  tread  thy  banks,  both  wander  on  thy  shore, 
I  near  thy  source,  she  by  the  dark-blue  deep.* 


XII. 


'  A  stranger  loves  the  Lady  of  the  land, 

Born  far  beyond  the  mountains,  but  his  blood 
Is  all  meridian,  as  if  never  fanned 
By  the  bleak  wind  that  chills  the  polar  flood. 


'  'Tis  vain  to  struggle — let  me  perish  young — 
Live  as  I  lived,  and  love  as  I  have  loved  ; 
To  dust  if  I  return,  from  dust  I  sprung, 

And  then,  at  least,  my  heart  can  ne'er  be  moved.' 

In  the  first  stanza,  Byron  says  that  when  his  lady- 
love walks  by  the  river's  brink  '  she  may  perchance 
recall  a  faint  and  fleeting  memory'  of  him.  Those 
words,  which  might  have  been  applicable  to  Mary 
Chaworth,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  at  least  three 
years,  could  not  possibly  refer  to  a  woman  from  whom 
he  had  been  parted  but  two  short  months,  and  with 
whom  he  had  since  been  in  constant  correspondence. 
Only  a  few  days  before  these  verses  were  written, 
Countess  Guiccioli  had  told  him  by  letter  that  she  had 
prepared  all  her  relatives  and  friends  to  expect  him  at 
Ravenna.  There  must  surely  have  been  something 
more  than  'a  faint  and  fleeting'  memory  of  Byron 
in  the  mind  of  the  ardent  Guiccioli.     In  the  second 

*  Although  not  near  the  source  of  the  Po  itself,  Byron,  at  Ferrara, 
was  not  very  far  from  the  point  where  the  Po  di  Primaro  breaks 
away  from  the  Po,  and,  becoming  an  independent  river,  flows  into 
the  dark  blue  Adriatic,  about  midway  between  Coraachio  and 
Ravenna. 


/ 


302  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

stanza,  Byron,  in  allusion  to  the  river  he  had  in  his 
thoughts,  says  : 

'  She  will  look  on  thee — 1  have  looked  on  thee,  full  of 
that  thought :  mid  from  that  7iwnient  ne'er  thy  waters 
could  I  dream  of,  name,  or  see,  without  the  inseparable 
sigh  for  her.' 

Now,  while  there  was  nothing  whatever  to  connect 
the  River  Po  with  tender  recollections,  there  was 
Byron's  association  in  childhood  with  the  River  Trent, 
a  memory  inseparable  from  his  boyish  love  for  Mary 
Chaworth. 

'  But  in  his  native  stream,  the  Guadalquivir, 
Juan  to  lave  his  youthful  limbs  was  wont  ; 
And  having  learnt  to  swim  in  that  sweet  river 
Had  often  turned  the  art  to  some  account,' 

In  the  fourth  stanza  we  perceive  that  the  poet,  while 
thinking  of  the  Trent,  'betrays  his  thoughts'  to  the 
Po,  a  river  as  wild  and  as  swift  as  his  native  stream. 

The  ninth  stanza  has  puzzled  commentators  ex- 
ceedingly. It  has  been  pointed  out  that  the  River  Po 
does  not  sweep  beneath  the  walls  of  Ravenna.  That 
is,  of  course,  indisputable.  But  Byron,  in  all  proba- 
bility, did  not  then  know  the  exact  course  of  that 
river,  and  blindly  followed  Dante's  geographical  de- 
scription, and  almost  used  his  very  words : 

*  Siede  la  terra,  dove  iiafa  fiii, 
Su  la  marina  dove  il  Po  discende, 
Per  aver  pace  co'  seguaci  sui.' 

It  is,  of  course,  well  known  that  the  Po  branches  off 
into  two  streams  to  the  north-west  of  Ferrara,  and 
flows  both  northward  and  southward  of  that  city. 
The  southern  portion — the  Po  di  Primaro — is  fed  by 
four  affluents — the  Rheno,  the  Savena,  the  Santerno, 
and  the  Lamone — and  flows  into  the  Adriatic  south 


'THE  EPISODE  OF  FRANCESCA'        303 

of  Comachio,  about  midway  between  that  place  and 
Ravenna.  It  was  obviously  to  the  Po  di  Primaro  that 
Dante  referred  when  he  wrote  seguaci  sui. 

Unless  Francesca  was  born  close  to  the  mouth  ol 
the  Po,  which  is  not  impossible,  Byron  erred  in  good 
company.  In  any  case,  we  may  fairly  plead  poetic 
licence.  That  Byron  crossed  the  Po  di  Primaro  as 
well  as  the  main  river  admits  of  no  doubt. 

In  the  eleventh  stanza  Byron  is  wondering  what 
will  be  the  result  of  his  journey  ?  Will  the  Guiccioli 
return  to  him  ?  Will  all  be  well  with  the  lovers,  or 
will  he  return  to  Venice  alone  ?  In  his  fancy  they 
are  both  wandering  on  the  banks  of  that  river.  He  is 
near  its  source,  where  the  Po  di  Primaro  branches  ofif 
near  Pontelagascuro,  while  she  was  on  the  shore  of 
the  Adriatic. 

The  twelfth  stanza  would  perhaps  have  been  clearer 
if  the  first  and  second  lines  had  been, 

'  A  stranger,  born  far  beyond  the  mountains, 
Loves  the  Lady  of  the  land,' 

which  was  Byron's  meaning.  The  poet  excuses  him- 
self for  his  fickleness  on  the  plea  that  '  his  blood  is 
all  meridian' — in  short,  that  he  cannot  help  loving 
someone.  But  we  plainly  see  that  his  love  for  Mary 
Chaworth  was  still  paramount.  '  In  spite  of  tortures 
ne'er  to  be  forgot ' — tortures  of  which  we  had  a  glimpse 
in  '  Manfred ' — he  was  still  her  slave.  Finally,  Byron 
tells  us  that  it  was  useless  to  struggle  against  the 
misery  his  heart  endured,  and  that  all  his  hopes  were 
centred  on  an  early  death. 

The  episode  of  Francesca  and  Paolo  had  made  a 
deep  impression  on  Byron.  He  likened  it  to  his 
unfortunate  adventure  with  Mary  Chaworth  in  June 
and  July,  1813.     In  '  The  Corsair' — written  after  their 


304  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

intimacy  had  been  broken  off — Byron  prefixes  to  each 
canto  a  motto  from  *  The  Inferno  '  which  seemed  to  be 
appropriate  to  his  own  case.  In  the  first  canto  we 
find: 

'  Nessun  maggior  dolore, 
Che  ricordarsi  del  tempo  felice 
Nella  miseria.' 

In  the  second  canto  : 

'  Conoscesti  i  dubbiosi  desire  ?' 

In  the  third  canto : 

'  Come  vedi — ancor  non  m'  abbandona.' 

That  Byron  had  Francesca  in  his  mind  when  he 
wrote  the  stanzas  to  the  Po  seems  likely ;  and  in  the 
letter  which  he  wrote  to  Mary  from  Venice,  in  the 
previous  month,  he  compares  their  misfortunes  with 
those  of  Paolo  and  Francesca  in  plain  words.* 

*  Don  Juan '  was  begun  in  the  autumn  of  1818.  That 
poem,  Byron  tells  us,  was  inspired  almost  entirely  by 
his  own  personal  experience.  Perhaps  he  drew  a 
portrait  of  Mary  Chaworth  when  he  described  Julia : 

'  And  she 
Was  married,  charming,  chaste,  and  twenty-three.' 

When  they  parted  in  1809,  that  was  exactly  Mary's 
age. 

'  Her  eye  was  large  and  dark,  suppressing  half  its 
fire  until  she  spoke.  Her  glossy  hair  was  clustered 
over  a  brow  bright  with  intelligence.  Her  cheek  was 
purple  with  the  beam  of  youth,  mounting  at  times  to  a 
transparent  glow;  and  she  had  an  uncommon  grace  of 
manner.  She  was  tall  of  stature.  Her  husband  was 
a  good-looking  man,  neither  much  loved  nor  disliked. 
He  was  of  a  jealous  nature,  though  he  did  not  show  it. 

*  Shortly  afterwards  he  translated  'The  Episode  of  Francesca,' 
line  for  line,  into  English  verse. 


•ELLE  VOUS  SUIT  PARTOUT*  305 

They  lived  together,  as  most  people  do,  suffering  each 
other's  foibles.' 

On  a  summer's  eve  in  the  month  of  June,  Juan  and 
Julia  met : 

'  How  beautiful  she  looked  !  her  conscious  heart 
Glowed  in  her  cheek,  and  yet  she  felt  no  wrong.' 

For  her  husband  she  had  honour,  virtue,  truth,  and 
love.  The  sun  had  set,  and  the  yellow  moon  arose 
high  in  the  heavens  : 

'  There  is  a  dangerous  silence  in  that  hour, 
A  stillness  which  leaves  room  for  the  full  soul.' 

Several  weeks  had  passed  away  : 

'  Julia,  in  fact,  had  tolerable  grounds, — 
Alfonso's  loves  with  Inez  were  well  known.' 

Then  came  the  parting  note  : 

'  They  tell  me  'tis  decided  you  depart : 

'Tis  wise — 'tis  well,  but  not  the  less  a  pain ; 

I  have  no  further  claim  on  your  young  heart, 
Mine  is  the  victim,  and  would  be  again  : 

To  love  too  much  has  been  the  only  art 

I  used.' 

Julia  tells  Juan  that  she  loved  him,  and  still  loves 
him  tenderly : 

'  I  loved,  I  love  you,  for  this  love  have  lost 

State,  station,  Heaven,  mankind's,  my  own  esteem, 
And  yet  cannot  regret  what  it  hath  cost, 
So  dear  is  still  the  memory  of  that  dream.' 

'  All  is  o'er 
For  me  on  earth,  except  some  years  to  hide 
My  shame  and  sorrow  deep  in  my  heart's  core.' 

The  seal  to  this  letter  was  a  sunflower — Elle  vous 
suit  partout.  It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  Byron 
had  a  seal  bearing  this  motto. 

20 


3o6  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

When  Juan  realized  that  the  parting  was  final,  he 
exclaims : 

'  No  more — no  more — oh  !  never  more,  my  heart, 
Canst  thou  be  my  sole  world,  my  universe  ! 

Once  all  in  all,  but  now  a  thing  apart, 
Thou  canst  not  be  my  blessing  or  my  curse : 

The  illusion's  gone  for  ever.' 

In  the  third  canto  we  have  a  hint  of  Byron's  feelings 
after  his  wife  had  left  him  : 

'  He  entered  in  the  house  no  more  his  home, 
A  thing  to  human  feelings  the  most  trying, 

And  harder  for  the  heart  to  overcome, 

Perhaps,  than  even  the  mental  pangs  of  dying ; 

To  find  our  hearthstone  turned  into  a  tomb, 
And  round  its  once  warm  precincts  palely  lying 

The  ashes  of  our  hopes.' 

*  But  whatsoe'er  he  had  of  love  reposed 
On  that  beloved  daughter ;  she  had  been 

The  only  thing  which  kept  his  heart  unclosed 
Amidst  the  savage  deeds  he  had  done  and  seen, 

A  lonely  pure  affection  unopposed  : 

There  wanted  but  the  loss  of  this  to  wean 

His  feelings  from  all  milk  of  human  kindness, 

And  turn  him  like  the  Cyclops  mad  with  blindness.' 

In  the  fourth  canto  we  are  introduced  to  Haidee, 
who  resembled  Lambro  in  features  and  stature,  even  to 
the  delicacy  of  their  hands.  We  are  told  that  owing 
to  the  violence  of  emotion  and  the  agitation  of  her 
mind  she  broke  a  bloodvessel,  and  lay  unconscious  on 
her  couch  for  days.  Like  Astarte  in  '  Manfred,'  '  her 
blood  was  shed  :  I  saw,  but  could  not  stanch  it ': 

'  She  looked  on  many  a  face  with  vacant  eye. 
On  many  a  token  without  knowing  what : 
She  saw  them  watch  her  without  asking  why, 
And  recked  not  who  around  her  pillow  sat. 

:|s  4=  4=  ^  H< 


DON  JUAN  307 

'  Anon  her  thin  wan  fingers  beat  the  wall 

In  time  to  the  harper's  tune :  he  changed  the  theme 

And  sang  of  Love ;  the  fierce  name  struck  through  all 
Her  recollection;  on  her  flashed  the  dream 

Of  what  she  was,  and  is,  if  ye  could  call 
To  be  so  being ;  in  a  gushing  stream 

The  tears  rushed  forth  from  her  o'erclouded  brain, 

Like  mountain  mists  at  length  dissolved  in  rain.' 

'  Short  solace,  vain  relief  !     Thought  came  too  quick, 
And  whirled  her  brain  to  madness.' 

'  She  died,  but  not  alone ;  she  held  within, 
A  second  principle  of  Life,  which  might 
Have  dawned  a  fair  and  sinless  child  of  sin ; 
But  closed  its  little  being  without  light.' 

'  Thus  lived — thus  died  she ;  never  more  on  her 
Shall  Sorrow  light,  or  Shame.' 

In  the  fifth  canto,  written  in  1820,  after  the  'Stanzas 
to  the  Po,'  we  find  Byron  once  more  in  a  confidential 

mood  : 

'  I  have  a  passion  for  the  name  of  "  Mary," 

For  once  it  was  a  magic  sound  to  me ; 
And  still  it  half  calls  up  the  realms  of  Fairy, 

Where  I  beheld  what  never  was  to  be ; 
All  feelings  changed,  but  this  was  last  to  vary 

A  spell  from  which  even  yet  I  am  not  quite  free.' 

And  there  is  a  sigh  for  Mary  Chaworth  in  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

'  To  pay  my  court,  I 
Gave  what  I  had — a  heart ;  as  the  world  went,  I 
Gave  what  was  worth  a  world ;  for  worlds  could  never 
Restore  me  those  pure  feelings,  gone  for  ever. 
'Twas  the  boy's  mite,  and  like  the  widow's  may 

Perhaps  be  weighed  hereafter,  if  not  now ; 
But  whether  such  things  do  or  do  not  weigh, 
All  who  have  loved,  or  love,  will  still  allow 
Life  has  naught  hke  it.' 

Early  in   1823,  little   more  than  a  year  before  his 
death,  Byron   refers  to  'the  fair  most  fatal  Juan  ever 

20 — 2 


3o8  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

met.'     Under  the  name  of  the  Lady  Adeline,  this  most 
fatal  fair  one  is  introduced  to  the  reader : 

'  Although  she  was  not  evil  nor  meant  ill, 
Both  Destiny  and  Passion  spread  the  net 
And  caught  them,' 

'  Chaste  she  was,  to  Detraction's  desperation, 
And  wedded  unto  one  she  had  loved  well.' 

'  The  World  could  tell 
Nought  against  either,  and  both  seemed  secure — 
She  in  her  virtue,  he  in  his  hauteur.' 

Here  we  have   a  minute   description  of  Newstead 

Abbey,  the  home  of  the  'noble  pair,'  where  Juan  came 

as  a  visitor : 

'  What  I  throw  off  is  ideal — 
Lowered,  leavened,  like  a  history  of  Freemasons, 
Which  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  real 

As  Captain  Parry's  Voyage  may  do  to  Jason's. 
The  grand  Arcanum's  not  for  men  to  see  all ; 

My  music  has  some  mystic  diapasons ; 
And  there  is  much  which  could  not  be  appreciated 
In  any  manner  by  the  uninitiated.' 

Adeline,  we  are  told,  came  out  at  sixteen : 

'  At  eighteen,  though  below  her  feet  still  panted 
A  Hecatomb  of  suitors  with  devotion, 
She  had  consented  to  create  again 
That  Adam  called  "  The  happiest  of  Men."  ' 

It  will  be  remembered  that  when  Mary  Chaworth 
married  she  was  exactly  eighteen.     Her  husband  was: 

*  Tall,  stately,  formed  to  lead  the  courtly  van 
On  birthdays.     The  model  of  a  chamberlain.' 

'  But  there  was  something  wanting  on  the  whole — 
I  don't  know  what,  and  therefore  cannot  tell — 
Which  pretty  women — the  sweet  souls  ! — call  Soul. 

Certes  it  was  not  body ;  he  was  well 
Proportioned,  as  a  poplar  or  a  pole, 
A  handsome  man.' 


DON  JUAN  309 

This  description  would  answer  equally  well  for 
'  handsome  Jack  Musters,'  who  married  Mary  Cha- 
worth.  Adeline,  we  are  told,  took  Juan  in  hand  when 
she  was  about  seven-and-twenty.  That  was  Mary's 
age  in  1813.  But  this  may  have  been  a  mere  coin- 
cidence. 

'She  had  one  defect,'  says  Byron,  in  speaking  of 
Adeline  :  '  her  heart  was  vacant.  Her  conduct  had 
been  perfectly  correct.  She  loved  her  lord,  or  thought 
so ;  but  that  love  cost  her  an  effort.  She  had  nothing 
to  complain  of — no  bickerings,  no  connubial  turmoil. 
Their  union  was  a  model  to  behold — serene  and  noble, 
conjugal,  but  cold.  There  was  no  great  disparity  in 
years,  though  much  in  temper.  But  they  never 
clashed.     They  moved,  so  to  speak,  apart.' 

Now,  when  once  Adeline  had  taken  an  interest  in 
anything,  her  impressions  grew,  and  gathered  as  they 
ran,  like  growing  water,  upon  her  mind.  The  more 
so,  perhaps,  because  she  was  not  at  first  too  readily 
impressed.     She  did  not  know  her  own  heart : 

'  I  think  not  she  was  then  in  love  with  Juan  : 

If  so,  she  would  have  had  the  strength  to  fly 
The  wild  sensation,  unto  her  a  new  one : 

She  merely  felt  a  common  sympathy 
In  him.' 

'  She  was,  or  thought  she  was,  his  friend— and  this 
Without  the  farce  of  Friendship,  or  romance 
Of  Platonism.' 

*  Few  of  the  soft  sex,'  says  Byron,  '  are  very  stable 
in  their  resolves.'  She  had  heard  some  parts  of  Juan's 
history ;  *  but  women  hear  with  more  good  humour 
such  aberrations  than  we  men  of  rigour  ': 

'  Adeline,  in  all  her  growing  sense 
Of  Juan's  merits  and  his  situation, 
Felt  on  the  whole  an  interest  intense — 
Partly  perhaps  because  a  fresh  sensation, 


3IO  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

Or  that  he  had  an  air  of  innocence, 

Which  is  for  Innocence  a  sad  temptation — 
As  Women  hate  half-measures,  on  the  whole. 
She  'gan  to  ponder  how  to  save  his  soul.' 

After  a  deal  of  thought,  *  she  seriously  advised  him 
to  get  married.' 

'  There  was  Miss  Millpond,  smooth  as  summer's  sea, 

That  usual  paragon,  an  only  daughter, 
Who  seemed  the  cream  of  Equanimity, 

Till  skimmed — and  then  there  was  some  milk  and  water, 
With  a  slight  shade  of  blue  too,  it  might  be 

Beneath  the  surface.' 

The  mention  of  Aurora  Rab}'',  to  whom  Juan  in  the 
first  instance  proposed,  and  by  whom  he  was  refused, 
suggests  an  incident  in  his  life  which  is  well  known. 
Aurora  was  very  young,  and  knew  but  little  of  the 
world's  ways.  In  her  indifference  she  confounded 
him  with  the  crowd  of  flatterers  by  whom  she  was 
surrounded.  Her  mind  appears  to  have  been  of  a 
serious  caste  ;  with  poetic  vision  she  '  saw  worlds 
beyond  this  world's  perplexing  waste,'  and 

*  those  worlds 
Had  more  of  her  existence ;  for  in  her 
There  was  a  depth  of  feeling  to  embrace 
Thoughts,  boundless,  deep,  but  silent  too  as  Space.' 

She  had  *  a  pure  and  placid  mien ';  her  colour  was 
'never  high,' 

'  Though  sometimes  faintly  flushed — and  always  clear 
As  deep  seas  in  a  sunny  atmosphere.' 

We  cannot  be  positive,  but  perhaps  Byron  had 
Aurora  Raby  in  his  mind  when  he  wrote : 

'  I've  seen  some  balls  and  revels  in  my  time, 
And  stayed  them  over  for  some  silly  reason, 
And  then  I  looked  (I  hope  it  was  no  crime) 
To  see  what  lady  best  stood  out  the  season ; 


MISS  MERCER  ELPHINSTONE  311 

And  though  I've  seen  some  thousands  in  their  prime 
Lovely  and  pleasing,  and  who  still  may  please  on, 
I  never  saw  but  one  (the  stars  withdrawn) 
Whose  bloom  could  after  dancing  dare  the  Dawn.'  * 

Perhaps  Aurora  Raby  may  have  been  drawn  from 
his  recollection  of  Miss  Mercer  Elphinstone,  who 
afterwards  married  Auguste  Charles  Joseph,  Comte  de 
Flahaut  de  la  Billarderie,  one  of  Napoleon's  Aides-de- 
Camp,  then  an  exile  in  England.  This  young  lady 
was  particularly  gracious  to  Byron  at  Lady  Jersey's 
party,  when  others  gave  him  a  cold  reception.  We 
wonder  how  matters  would  have  shaped  themselves 
if  she  had  accepted  the  proposal  of  marriage  which 
Byron  made  to  her  in  1814!  But  it  was  not  to  be. 
That  charming  woman  passed  out  of  his  orbit,  and  as 
he  waited  upon  the  shore,  gazing  at  the  dim  outline 
of  the  coast  of  France,  the  curtain  fell  upon  the  first 
phase  of  Byron's  existence.  The  Pilgrim  of  Eternity 
stood  on  the  threshold  of  a  new  life  : 

'  Between  two  worlds  life  hovers  like  a  star, 

'Twixt  Night  and  Morn,  upon  the  horizon's  verge. 

How  little  do  we  know  that  which  \vc  are ! 

How  less  what  we  may  be  !     The  eternal  surge 

Of  Time  and  Tide  rolls  on  and  bears  afar 
Our  bubbles ;  as  the  old  burst,  new  emerge, 

Lashed  from  the  foam  of  Ages.' 

And  after  eight  years  of  exile,  in  his  *  Last  Words 

on  Greece,'  written  in  those  closing  days  at  Misso- 

longhi,  with  the  shadow  of  Death  upon  him,  his  mind 

reverts  to  one  whom,  in  1816,  he  had  called  'Soul  of 

my  thought ' : 

'  What  are  to  me  those  honours  or  renown 
Past  or  to  come,  a  new-born  people's  cry  ? 
Albeit  for  such  I  could  despise  a  crown 
Of  aught  save  laurel,  or  for  such  could  die. 

*  '  Beppo,'  stanza  8"?. 


312  WHAT  THE  POEMS  REVEAL 

I  am  a  fool  of  passion,  and  a  frown 
Of  thine  to  me  is  as  an  adder's  eye — 

To  the  poor  bird  whose  pinion  fluttering  down 
Wafts  unto  death  the  breast  it  bore  so  high — 

Such  is  this  maddening  fascination  grown, 
So  strong  thy  magic  or  so  weak  am  I ' 

'  The  flowers  and  fruits  of  Love  are  gone ;  the  worm. 
The  canker,  and  the  grief,  are  mine  alone !' 


U<. 


'\ 


I 


PART    III 
'ASTARTE' 

'  The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them  ; 
The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones.' 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Cctsar. 


CHAPTER  I 

From  the  moment  when  Lord  Byron  left  England 
until  the  hour  of  his  death,  the  question  of  his  separa- 
tion from  his  wife  was  never  long  out  of  his  thoughts. 
He  was  remarkably  communicative  on  the  subject,  and 
spoke  of  it  constantly,  not  only  to  Madame  de  Stael, 
Hobhouse,  Lady  Blessington,  and  Trelawny,  but,  as 
we  have  seen,  even  in  casual  conversation  with  com- 
parative strangers.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  felt 
himself  aggrieved,  and  bitterly  resented  a  verdict  which 
he  knew  to  be  unjust.  In  a  pamphlet  which  was  sub- 
sequently suppressed,  written  while  he  was  at  Ravenna, 
Byron  sums  up  his  own  case.  In  justice  to  one  who 
can  no  longer  plead  his  own  cause,  we  feel  bound  to 
transcribe  a  portion  of  his  reply  to  strictures  on  his 
matrimonial  conduct,  which  appeared  in  Blackwood's 
Magazine : 

'  The  man  who  is  exiled  by  a  faction  has  the  conso- 
lation of  thinking  that  he  is  a  martyr;  he  is  upheld  by 
hope  and  the  dignity  of  his  cause,  real  or  imaginary : 
he  who  withdraws  from  the  pressure  of  debt  may 
indulge  in  the  thought  that  time  and  prudence  will 
retrieve  his  circumstances :  he  who  is  condemned  by 
the  law  has  a  term  to  his  banishment,  or  a  dream  of 
its  abbreviation ;  or,  it  may  be,  the  knowledge  or  the 
belief  of  some  injustice  of  the  law,  or  of  its  administra- 
tion in  his  own  particular :  but  he  who  is  outlawed  by 
general  opinion,  without  the  intervention  of  hostile 

315 


3i6  'ASTARTE' 

politics,   illegal   judgment,   or    embarrassed    circum- 
stances,  whether    he    be    innocent    or    guilty,   must 
undergo   all   the   bitterness   of   exile,   without  hope, 
without   pride,   without   alleviation.     This   case   was 
mine.     Upon  what  grounds  the  public  founded  their 
opinion,  I  am  not  aware ;  but  it  was  general,  and  it 
was  decisive.     Of  me   or  of  mine   they  knew  little, 
except  that  I  had  written  what  is  called  poetry,  was 
a  nobleman,  had  married,  become  a  father,  and  was 
involved  in  differences  with  my  wife  and  her  relatives, 
no  one  knew  why,  because  the  persons  complaining 
refused   to   state   their   grievances.     The  fashionable 
world  was   divided   into   parties,  mine  consisting  of 
a  very   small   minority :    the   reasonable   world   was 
naturally  on   the   stronger   side,  which   happened  to 
be  the  lady's,  as  was  most  proper  and  polite.     The 
press  was  active  and  scurrilous ;  and  such  was  the 
rage  of  the  day,  that  the  unfortunate  publication  of 
two  copies  of  verses,  rather  complimentary  than  other- 
wise to  the  subjects  of  both,  was  tortured  into  a  species 
of  crime,  or  constructive  petty  treason.    I  was  accused 
of  every  monstrous  vice  by  public  rumour  and  private 
rancour ;  my  name,  which  had  been  a  knightly  or  a 
noble  one   since   my  fathers  helped   to  conquer  the 
kingdom   for  William   the   Norman,  was   tainted.     I 
felt  that,  if  what  was  whispered,  and  muttered,  and 
murmured,  was  true,  I  was  unfit  for  England ;  if  false, 
England  was  unfit  for  me.     I  withdrew ;  but  this  was 
not  enough.     In  other  countries,  in  Switzerland,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Alps,  and  by  the  blue  depths  of  the 
lakes,  I  was  pursued  and  breathed  upon  by  the  same 
blight.    I  crossed  the  mountains,  but  it  was  the  same : 
so  I  went  a  little  farther,  and  settled  myself  by  the 
waves  of  the  Adriatic,  like  the  stag  at  bay,  who  betakes 
him  to  the  waters.  ...     I  have  heard  of,  and  believe, 
that  there  are  human  beings  so  constituted  as  to  be 
insensible  to  injuries  ;  but  1  believe  that  the  best  mode 
to  avoid  taking  vengeance  is  to  get  out  of  the  way  of 
temptation.     I  do  not  in  this  allude  to  the  party,  who 
might  be  right  or  wrong;  but  to  many  who  made  her 
cause  the  pretext  of  their  own  bitterness.    She,  indeed, 
must  have  long  avenged  me  in  her  own  feelings,  for 
whatever  her  reasons  may  have  been  (and  she  never 
adduced  them,  to  me  at  least),  she  probably  neither 


LADY  CAROLINE  LAMB  317 

contemplated  nor  conceived  to  what  she  became  the 
means  of  conducting  the  father  of  her  child,  and  the 
husband  of  her  choice.' 

Byron  knew  of  the  charge  that  had  been  whispered 
against  his  sister  and  himself,  and,  knowing  it  to  be 
false,  it  stung  him  to  the  heart.  And  yet  he  dared  not 
speak,  because  a  solution  of  the  mystery  that  sur- 
rounded the  separation  from  his  wife  would  have 
involved  the  betrayal  of  one  whom  he  designated  as 
the  soul  of  his  thousfht : 


*&' 


'  Invisible  but  gazing,  as  I  glow 
Mixed  with  thy  spirit,  blended  with  thy  birth, 
And  feeling  still  with  thee  in  my  crush'd  feelings  dearth.' 

Augusta  Leigh,  the  selfless  martyr,  the  most  loyal 
friend  that  Byron  ever  possessed,  his  *  tower  of  strength 
in  the  hour  of  need,'  assisted  her  brother,  so  to  speak, 
to  place  the  pack  on  a  false  scent,  and  the  whole  field 
blindly  followed.  There  never  was  a  nobler  example 
of  self-immolation  than  that  of  the  sister  who  bravely 
endured  the  odium  of  a  scandal  in  which  she  had  no 
part.  For  Byron's  sake  she  was  content  to  suffer 
intensely  during  her  lifetime  ;  and  after  she  had  ceased 
to  feel,  her  name  was  branded  by  Lady  Byron  and 
her  descendants  with  the  mark  of  infamy. 

A  curious  feature  in  the  case  is  that,  with  few  excep- 
tions, those  who  knew  Byron  and  Mrs.  Leigh  inti- 
mately came  gradually  to  accept  the  story  which  Lady 
Caroline  Lamb  had  insidiously  whispered,  a  libel 
which  flourished  exceedingly  in  the  noxious  vapours  of 
a  scandal-loving  age.  As  Nature  is  said  to  abhor  a 
vacuum,  so  falsehood  rushed  in  to  fill  the  void  which 
silence  caused. 

It  is  with  a  deep  searching  of  heart  and  with  great 
reluctance  that  we  re-open  this  painful  subject. 


3i8  'ASTARTE' 

The  entire  responsibility  must  rest  with  the  late 
Lord  Lovelace,  whose  loud  accusation  against  Byron's 
devoted  sister  deprives  us  of  any  choice  in  the  matter. 

In  order  to  understand  the  full  absurdity  of  the 
accusation  brought  against  Augusta  Leigh,  we  have 
but  to  contrast  the  evidence  brought  against  her  in 
'  Astarte '  with  allusions  to  her  in  Byron's  poems,  and 
with  the  esteem  in  which  she  was  held  by  men  and 
women  well  known  in  society  at  the  time  of  the 
separation. 

Lord  Stanhope,  the  historian,  in  a  private  letter 
written  at  the  time  of  the  Beecher  Stowe  scandals, 
says: 

*  I  was  very  well  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Leigh  about 
forty  years  ago,  and  used  to  call  upon  her  at  St. 
James's  Palace  to  hear  her  speak  about  Lord  Byron, 
as  she  was  very  fond  of  doing.  That  fact  itself  is 
a  presumption  against  what  is  alleged,  since,  on  such 
a  supposition,  the  subject  would  surely  be  felt  as 
painful  and  avoided.  She  was  extremely  unpre- 
possessing in  her  person  and  appearance — more  like  a 
nun  than  anything — and  never  can  have  had  the  least 
pretension  to  beauty.  I  thought  her  shy  and  sensitive 
to  a  fault  in  her  mind  and  character,  and,  from  what  I 
saw  and  knew  of  her,  I  hold  her  to  have  been  utterly 
incapable  of  such  a  crime  as  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe  is  so 
unwarrantably  seeking  to  cast  upon  her  memory.' 

Frances,  Lady  Shelley,  a  woman  of  large  experience, 
penetration,  and  sagacity,  whose  husband  was  a 
personal  friend  of  the  Prince  Regent,  stated  in  a  letter 
to  the  Times  that  Mrs.  Leigh  was  like  a  mother  to 
Byron,  and  when  she  knew  her  intimately — at  the 
time  of  the  separation — was  *  not  at  all  an  attractive 
person.'  Her  husband  was  very  fond  of  her,  and  had 
a  high  opinion  of  her. 

These  impressions  are  confirmed  by  all  those  friends 


AUGUSTA  LEIGH  319 

and  acquaintances  of  Mrs.  Leigh  who  were  still  living 
in  1869. 

In  1 8 16  Augusta  Leigh  was  a  married  woman  of 
thirty-two  years  of  age,  and  the  mother  of  four 
children.  She  had  long  been  attached  to  the  Court, 
moved  in  good  society,  and  was  much  liked  by 
those  who  knew  her  intimately.  Since  her  marriage 
in  1807  she  had  been  more  of  a  mother  than  a  sister 
to  Byron,  and  her  affection  for  him  was  deep  and 
sincere.  She  made  allowances  for  his  frailties,  bore 
his  uncertain  temper  with  patience,  and  was  never 
afraid  of  giving  him  good  advice.  In  June,  18 13,  she 
tried  to  save  him  from  the  catastrophe  which  she 
foresaw ;  and  having  failed,  she  made  the  supreme 
sacrifice  of  her  life,  by  adopting  his  natural  child,  thus 
saving  the  reputation  of  a  woman  whom  her  brother 
sincerely  loved.  Henceforward,  under  suspicions 
which  must  have  been  galling  to  her  pride,  she  faced 
the  world's  '  speechless  obloquy,'  heedless  of  conse- 
quences. In  the  after-years,  when  great  trouble  fell 
upon  her  through  the  misconduct  of  that  adopted  child, 
she  bore  her  sorrows  in  silence.  Among  those  who 
were  connected  with  Byron's  life,  Hobhouse,  Hodgson, 
and  Harness — three  men  of  unimpeachable  character — 
respected  and  admired  her  to  the  last. 

Such,  then,  was  the  woman  who  was  persecuted 
during  her  lifetime  and  slandered  in  her  grave.  Her 
traducers  at  first  whispered,  and  afterwards  openly 
stated,  not  only  that  she  had  committed  incest  with 
her  brother,  but  that  she  had  employed  her  influence 
over  him  to  make  a  reconciliation  with  his  wife  im- 
possible. 

If  that  were  so,  it  is  simply  inconceivable  that 
Hobhouse  should  have  remained  her  lifelong  friend. 


320  '  ASTARTE ' 

His  character  is  well  known.  Not  only  his  public 
but  much  of  his  private  life  is  an  open  book.  As  a 
gentleman  and  a  man  of  honour  he  was  above  sus- 
picion. From  his  long  and  close  intimacy  with  Byron, 
there  were  but  few  secrets  between  them ;  and  Hob- 
house  undoubtedly  knew  the  whole  truth  of  the 
matter  between  Byron  and  his  sister.  He  was  Byron's 
most  trusted  friend  during  life,  and  executor  at  his 
death. 

It  has  never  been  disputed  that,  at  the  time  of  the 
separation,  Hobhouse  demanded  from  Lady  Byron's 
representative  a  formal  disavowal  of  that  monstrous 
charge ;  otherwise  the  whole  matter  would  be  taken 
into  a  court  of  law.  He  would  allow  no  equivocation. 
The  charge  must  either  be  withdrawn,  then  and  there, 
or  substantiated  in  open  court.  When  Lady  Byron, 
through  her  representative,  unreservedly  disavowed 
the  imputation,  Byron  was  satisfied,  and  consented  to 
sign  the  deed  of  separation. 

Six  months  after  Byron  left  England,  Hobhouse 
visited  him  in  Switzerland ;  and  on  September  9, 
1 8 16,  he  wrote  as  follows  to  Augusta  Leigh  : 

'  It  would  be  a  great  injustice  to  suppose  that  [Byron] 
has  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  thoughts,  or  indeed 
from  his  conversation,  upon  any  other  motive  than  that 
which  the  most  bitter  of  his  enemies  would  commend. 
The  uniformly  tranquil  and  guarded  manner  shows 
the  effect  which  it  is  meant  to  hide.  ...  I  trust  the 
news  from  your  Lowestoft  correspondent  [Lady  Byron] 
will  not  be  so  bad  as  it  was  when  I  last  saw  you. 
Pardon  me,  dear  Mrs.  Leigh,  if  I  venture  to  advise  the 
strictest  confinement  to  very  common  topics  in  all  you 
say  in  that  quarter.  Repay  kindness  in  any  other  way 
than  by  confidence.  I  say  this,  not  in  reference  to  the 
lady's  character,  but  as  a  maxim  to  serve  for  all  cases. 
*  Ever  most  faithfully  yours, 

'J.  C.  Hobhouse.' 


I 


MRS.  LEIGH  CROSS-EXAMINED         321 

This  letter  shows,  not  only  that  the  writer  was 
firmly  convinced  of  Mrs.  Leigh's  innocence,  but  that 
he  was  afraid  lest  Lady  Byron  would  worm  the  real 
secret  out  of  Byron's  sister,  by  appealing,  through 
acts  of  kindness,  to  her  sense  of  gratitude.  He  knew 
that  Mrs.  Leigh  had  a  very  difficult  part  to  perform. 
Her  loyalty  to  Byron  and  Mary  Chaworth  had  already 
borne  a  severe  test,  and  he  wished  her  to  realize  how 
much  depended  on  her  discretion. 

The  task  of  keeping  in  touch  with  Lady  Byron, 
without  dispelling  her  illusions,  was  so  trying  to 
Augusta  Leigh's  naturally  frank  nature  as  almost 
to  drive  her  to  despair.  Lady  Byron,  knowing  that 
Byron  was  in  constant  correspondence  with  his  sister, 
asked  permission  to  read  his  letters,  and  it  was  difficult, 
without  plausible  excuse,  to  withhold  them.  Byron's 
correspondence  was  never  characterized  by  reticence. 
He  invariably  unburdened  his  mind,  heedless  of  the 
effect  which  his  words  might  have  upon  those  to  whom 
his  letters  were  shown.  In  these  circumstances  Mrs. 
Leigh  was  kept  in  a  fever  of  apprehension  as  to  what 
Lady  Byron  might  glean,  even  from  the  winnowed 
portions  which,  from  time  to  time,  were  submitted  for 
her  perusal. 

It  has  since  transpired  that,  without  Augusta's  know- 
ledge, Lady  Byron  kept  a  copy  of  everything  that  was 
shown  to  her. 

It  appears  from  '  Astarte '  that,  in  the  early  part  of 
September,  18 16,  Augusta  Leigh  underwent  a  rigorous 
cross-examination — not  only  from  Lady  Byron,  but 
from  inquisitive  acquaintances,  who  were  determined 
to  extract  from  her  replies  proofs  of  her  guilt. 

Lord  Lovelace,  on  Lady  Byron's  authority,  states 
that  between  August  31  and  September  14  (the  precise 

21 


322  'ASTARTE' 

date  is  not  given)  Augusta  confessed  to  Lady  Byron 

that  she  had  committed  incest  with  her  hrother  previoi^is 

to  his  marriage.     This  strange  admission,  which  we 

are  told  had  been  long  expected,  seems  to  have  com- 

^j^^  r^  pletely  satisfied  Lady  Byron.     After  having  promised 

'        ^  to  keep  her  secret  inviolate^  she  wrote  to  several  of  her 

'  ^  friends,  and  told  them  that  Augusta  had  made  'a  full 

^:^     •  confession  of  her  guilt,'    There  had  been  no  witnesses 

^  r     '"^  at   the   meeting  between  these   two   ladies,  and   the 

incriminating  letters,  which  Lord  Lovelace  says  Mrs. 


^% 


C" 


;S»>».  '^   --       Leigh  wrote  to  Lady  Byron,  are  not  given  in  '  Astarte' ! 

^^  But  in  1817  Lady  Byron,  referring  to  these  meetings, 

v^  says :  *  She  acknowledged  that  the  verses,  "  I  speak 

r    ^"     •.•        not,    I    trace   not,    I    breathe    not    thy   name,"'   were 

«\.  fj     ^^       addressed  to  her.' 

<      r  Augusta  was  certainly  in  an  awkward  predicament. 

^^ .  By  adopting  Medora  she  had,  at  considerable  personal 

risk,  saved  the  reputation  of  Mary  Chaworth.     If  she 

had  now  told  the  whole  truth — namely,  that  Medora 

was  merely  her  daughter  by  adoption — she  would  have 

been  pressed  to  prove  it  by  divulging  the  identity  of 

that  child's  mother.     This  was  of  course  impossible. 

Not  only  would  she  have  mortally  offended  Byron, 

■^^^^  r^     ^      and  have  betrayed  his  trust  in  her,  but  the  fortune 

r*  %^^^     which  by  his  will  would  devolve  upon  her  children 

^     '        must  have  passed  into  other  hands.    For  those  reasons 

it  was  indispensable  that  the  truth  should  be  veiled. 

As  to  Mrs.  Leigh's  alleged  statement  that  the  lines, 

'  I  speak  not,  I  trace  not,  I  breathe  not  thy  name,' — 

were   addressed   to   her,   we   say   nothing.      By   that 

portion  of  her  so-called  '  confession '  we  may  gauge 

^       the  value  of  the  rest.     That  Lady  Byron  should  have 

been    thus    deceived   affords   a   strong   proof   of  her 

gullibility.     There  is  nothing  to  show  exactly  what 


<  -i^ 


LADY  BYRON  NEVER  KNEW  THE  TRUTH   323 

passed  at  these  remarkable  interviews.  We  know 
that  Augusta's  statements,  made  orally,  were  subse- 
quently written  down  from  memory ;  because  Lady 
Byron  told  one  of  her  friends  that  she  had  sent  the 
said  'confession'  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  (Eldon),  'as 
a  bar  to  any  future  proceedings  that  might  be  taken 
by  Lord  Byron  to  obtain  the  custody  of  Ada.' 

It  is  clear  that  Mrs.  Leigh's  communication  would 
never  have  been  made  except  under  a  promise  of 
secrecy.  She  did  not  suspect  the  treachery  which 
Lady  Byron  contemplated,  and  thought  that  she  might 
safely  encourage  her  delusions.  Perhaps  she  divined 
that  Lady  Byron  had  already  convinced  herself  that 
Medora  was  Byron's  child.  At  any  rate,  she  knew 
enough  of  Lady  Byron  to  be  certain  that  there  would 
be  no  peace  until  that  lady  had  satisfied  herself  that 
her  suspicions  were  well  founded.  Unhappily  for 
Mrs.  Leigh,  Hobhouse's  warning  arrived  too  late  ;  her 
ruse  failed,  and  her  reputation  suffered  during  life. 
Although  she  was  destined  to  bear  the  stigma  of  a 
crime  of  which  she  was  innocent,  she  never  wavered, 
and  died  with  her  secret  unrevealed.  Lady  Byron, 
with  all  her  ingenuity,  never  divined  the  truth.  To- 
wards the  close  of  her  life  she  became  uneasy  in  her 
mind,  and  died  under  the  impression  that  'Augusta 
had  made  a  fool  of  her.' 

Immediately  after  Mrs.  Leigh's  interviews  with  Lady 
Byron  she  wrote  to  Byron,  and  revealed  the  state  of 
affairs.  That,  at  the  same  time,  she  reproached  him 
for  the  troubles  he  had  brought  upon  her  is  evident 
from  Byron's  journal  of  September  29  : 

'  I  am  past  reproaches,  and  there  is  a  time  for  all 
things.  I  am  past  the  wish  of  vengeance,  and  I  know 
of  none  like  what  I  have  suffered  ;  but  the  hour  will 

21 — 2 


324  •  ASTARTE ' 

come  when  what  I  feel  must  be  felt,  and  the  [truth 
will  out?] — but  enough.' 

It  was  at  this  time,  also,  that  Byron  thought  that  the 
'  Epistle  to  Augusta  ' — sent  to  Murray  on  August  28 — 
had  better  not  be  published.  It  did  not,  in  fact,  see 
the  light  until  1830.  Lady  Byron's  conduct  in  this 
business  affected  him  profoundly,  and  his  feelings 
towards  her  changed  completely.  He  was  also  angry 
with  Augusta  for  a  time,  and  told  her  that  it  was 

'on  her  account  principally  that  he  had  given  way 
at  all  and  signed  the  separation,  for  he  thought  they 
would  endeavour  to  drag  her  into  it,  although  they 
had  no  business  with  anything  previous  to  his  mar- 
riage with  that  infernal  fiend,  whose  destruction  he 
should  yet  see.'* 

In  spite  of  Lady  Byron's  prejudice  against  Mrs. 
Leigh,  as  time  went  on  she  gradually  realized  that 
her  sister-in-law's  so-called  '  confession  '  was  not  con- 
sistent either  with  her  known  disposition,  her  reputa- 
tion in  society,  or  with  her  general  conduct.  In  order 
to  satisfy  her  conscience,  Lady  Byron,  in  April,  1851, 
arranged  a  meeting  with  Mrs.  Leigh  at  Reigate. 
Clearly,  it  was  Lady  Byron's  purpose  to  obtain  a  full 
confession  from  Mrs.  Leigh  of  the  crime  which  she 
had  long  suspected.  Lady  Byron  came  to  Reigate 
accompanied  by  the  Rev.  Frederick  Robertson  of 
Brighton,  who  happened  then  to  be  her  spiritual 
adviser.  This  time  Augusta  Leigh's  'confession'  was 
to  be  made  before  an  unimpeachable  witness,  who 
would  keep  a  record  of  what  passed.  It  deeply  mor- 
tified Lady  Byron  to  find  that  Mrs.  Leigh — far  from 
making  any  *  confession ' — appeared  before  her  in  *  all 
the  pride  of  innocence,'  and,  after  saying  that  she  had 

*  '  Astarte,'  p.  166. 


THE  OPINION  OF  HOBHOUSE 


325 


always  been  loyal  to  Byron  and  his  wife,  and  had 
never  tried  to  keep  them  apart,  told  Lady  Byron  that 
Hobhouse — who  was  still  living — had  expressed  his 
opinion  that  Lady  Byron  had  every  reason  to  be 
grateful  to  Mrs.  Leigh  ;  for  she  not  only  risked  the 
loss  of  property,  but  what  was  much  dearer  to  her, 
Byron's  affection.* 

Alas,  the  bubble  had  burst !  The  confession,  upon 
which  the  peace  of  Lady  Byron's  conscience  de- 
pended, was  transformed  into  an  avowal  of  inno- 
cence, which  no  threats  could  shake,  no  arguments 
could  weaken,  and  no  reproaches  divert. 

*  Lady  Byi-on  and  Rev.  F.  Robertson  drew  up  a  memorandum  of 
this  conversation,  April  8,  185 1. 


y 


< 


iU^i^     <Y^K\^X 


II 


CHAPTER  II 

It  is  because  *  Astarte'  is  a  pretentious  and  plausible 
record  of  fallacies  that  the  present  writer  feels  bound 
to  take  note  of  its  arguments. 

In  order  to  avoid  circumlocution  and  tedious  excur- 
sions over  debatable  ground,  we  will  assume  that  the 
reader  is  tolerably  well  acquainted  with  literature 
relating  to  the  separation  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron. 

It  would  certainly  have  been  better  if  the  details 
of  Byron's  quarrel  with  his  wife  had  been  ignored. 
Prior  to  the  publication  of  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's 
articles,  in  1869,  the  greatest  tenderness  had  been 
shown  towards  Lady  Byron  by  all  writers  upon 
Byron's  career  and  poetry,  and  by  all  those  who 
alluded  to  his  unhappy  marriage.  Everyone  respected 
Lady  Byron's  excellent  qualities,  and  no  one  accused 
her  of  any  breach  of  faith  in  her  conduct  towards 
either  her  husband  or  his  sister.  Lady  Byron  was 
generally  regarded  as  a  virtuous  and  high-minded 
woman,  with  a  hard  and  cold  disposition,  but  nothing 
worse  was  said  or  thought  of  her,  and  the  world  really 
sympathized  with  her  sorrows. 

But  when  her  self-imposed  silence  was  broken  by 
Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe,  and  Byron  stood  publicly  accused 
on  Lady  Byron's  authority  of  an  odious  crime  which 
she  had  never  attempted  to  prove  during  the  poet's 


THE  FALLACIES  IN  'ASTARTE'        327 

lifetime,  there  arose  a  revulsion  of  feeling  against  her 
memory.  It  was  generally  felt,  after  the  suffering  and 
the  patience  of  a  lifetime,  that  Lady  Byron  might  well 
have  evinced  a  deeper  Christian  spirit  at  its  close. 

As  time  went  on,  the  memory  of  this  untoward 
incident  gradually  faded  away,  and  the  present  genera- 
tion thought  little  of  the  rights  or  wrongs  of  a  con- 
troversy which  had  moved  their  forefathers  so  deeply. 
The  dead,  so  to  speak,  had  buried  their  dead,  and  all 
would  soon  have  been  forgotten.  Unfortunately,  the 
late  Lord  Lovelace,  a  grandson  of  Lady  Byron,  goaded 
by  perusal  of  the  attacks  made  upon  Lady  Byron's 
memory,  after  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  revelations  in  1869, 
was  induced  in  1905  to  circulate  among  'those  who, 
for  special  reasons,  ought  to  have  the  means  of  ac- 
quainting themselves  with  the  true  position  of  Lord 
and  Lady  Byron,'  a  work  entitled  *  Astarte,'  which  is 
mainly  a  compilation  of  letters  and  data,  skilfully 
selected  for  the  purpose  of  defaming  his  grandfather. 

After  informing  the  reader  that  *  the  public  of  this 
age  would  do  well  to  pay  no  attention  to  voluminous 
complications  and  caricatures  of  Lord  Byron,'  Lord 
Lovelace  gaily  proceeds,  on  the  flimsiest  of  evidence, 
to  blast,  not  only  Byron's  name,  but  also  the  reputation 
of  the  poet's  half-sister,  Augusta  Leigh. 

After  telling  the  world  that  Byron  'after  his  death 
was  less  honoured  than  an  outcast,'  Lord  Lovelace 
endeavours  to  justify  the  public  neglect  to  honour  the 
remains  of  a  great  national  poet  by  accusing  Byron  of 
incest.  Lord  Lovelace's  claim  to  have  been  the  sole 
depositary  of  so  damning  a  secret  is  really  comical, 
because,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  never  knew  the  truth 
at  all.  He  thought  that  he  had  only,  like  Pandora,  to 
open  his  box  for  all  the  evil  to  fly  out,  forgetting  that 


328  •  ASTARTE ' 

Truth  has  an  awkward  habit  of  lying  at  the  bottom. 
He  seems,  however,  to  have  had  some  inkling  of  this, 
for  he  is  careful  to  remind  us  that  '  Truth  comes  in 
the  last,  and  very  late,  limping  along  on  the  arm  of 
Time.' 

In  support  of  a  theory  which  is  supposed  to  be 
revealed  by  his  papers,  Lord  Lovelace  declares  that 
a  solution  of  Byron's  mystery  may  be  found  in  his 
poems,  and  he  fixes  on  '  Manfred  '  for  the  key.  The 
haunting  remorse  of  Manfred  is  once  more  trotted 
out  to  prove  that  Byron  committed  incest.  There  is 
nothing  new  in  this  *  nightmare  of  folly,'  for  Byron 
himself  was  well  aware  of  the  interpretation  placed 
upon  that  poem  by  his  contemporaries. 

Manfred  is  certainly  the  revelation  of  deep  remorse, 
but  the  crime  for  which  he  suffers  had  no  connection 
with  Augusta  Leigh.  Lord  Lovelace  says  that  '  the 
germ  of  this  nightmare  in  blank  verse  was  in  the  actual 
letters  of  the  living  Astarte.'  The  statement  may  be 
true ;  but  he  was  certainly  not  in  a  position  to  prove 
it,  for  he  knew  not,  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  who 
the  living  Astarte  was. 

It  is  a  sad  story  that  should  never  have  been  told, 
and  the  present  writer  regrets  that  circumstances 
should  have  compelled  him  to  save  the  reputation  of 
one  good  woman  by  revealing  matters  affecting  the 
misfortunes  of  another.  But  the  blame  must  lie  with 
those  inconsiderate,  ignorant,  and  prejudiced  persons 
who,  in  an  attempt  to  justify  Lady  Byron's  conduct, 
cruell}'  assailed  the  memory  of  one  who 

When  fortune  changed — and  love  fled  far, 
And  hatred's  shafts  flew  thick  and  fast,' 

was  the  solitary  star  which  rose,  and  set  not  to  the 
last. 


LADY  ANNE  BARNARD  329 

On  January  2,  181 5,  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  were 
married  at  Seaham.  The  little  that  is  known  of  their 
married  life  may  be  found  in  letters  and  memoranda 
of  people  who  were  in  actual  correspondence  with 
them,  and  the  details  which  we  now  give  from  various 
sources  are  necessary  to  a  better  understanding  of  the 
causes  which  led  to  a  separation  between  husband 
and  wife  in  January,  18 16. 

According  to  a  statement  made  by  Lady  Byron  to 
her  friend  Lady  Anne  Barnard,  shortly  after  a  rumour 
of  the  separation  spread  in  London,  there  never  was 
any  real  love  on  either  side.  The  following  passages 
are  taken  from  some  private  family  memoirs  written 
by  Lady  Anne  herself: 

'  I  heard  of  Lady  Byron's  distress,  and  entreated  her 
to  come  and  let  me  see  and  hear  her,  if  she  conceived 
my  sympathy  or  counsel  could  be  any  comfort  to  her. 
She  came,  but  what  a  tale  was  unfolded  by  this  in- 
teresting young  creature,  who  had  so  fondly  hoped 
to  have  made  [Byron]  happy !  They  had  not  been  an 
hour  in  the  carriage  .  .  .  when  Byron,  breaking  into 
a  malignant  sneer,  said :  "  Oh,  what  a  dupe  3^ou  have 
been  to  3^our  imagination  I  How  is  it  possible  a 
woman  of  your  sense  could  form  the  wild  hope  of 
reforming  me  ?  Many  are  the  tears  you  will  have  to 
shed  ere  that  plan  is  accomplished.  It  is  enough  for 
me  that  you  are  my  wife  for  me  to  hate  you  ;  if  you 
were  the  wife  of  any  other  man,  I  own  you  might 
have  charms,"  etc. 

*  I  listened  in  astonishment,'  writes  Lady  Anne. 
"'How  could  you  go  on  after  this,  my  dear!"  said  L 
"  Why  did  you  not  return  to  your  father's  ?" 

' "  Because  I  had  not  a  conception  he  was  in  earnest ; 
because  I  reckoned  it  a  bad  jest,  and  told  him  so — that 
my  opinion  of  him  was  very  different  from  his  of 
himself,  otherwise  he  would  not  find  me  by  his  side. 
He  laughed  it  over  when  he  saw  me  appear  hurt,  and 
I  forgot  what  had  passed  till  forced  to  remember  it. 
I    believe   he  was   pleased  with  me,  too,  for  a  little 


330  '  ASTARTE ' 

while.     I  suppose  it  had  escaped  his  memory  that  I 
was  his  wife." 

*  But,'  says  Lady  Anne,  *  she  described  the  happiness 
they  enjoyed  to  have  been  unequal  and  perturbed. 
Her  situation  in  a  short  time  might  have  entitled  her 
to  some  tenderness,  but  she  made  no  claim  on  him  for 
any.  He  sometimes  reproached  her  for  the  motives 
that  had  induced  her  to  marry  him — "  all  was  vanit}^,  the 
vanity  of  Miss  Milbanke  carrying  the  point  of  reforming 
Lord  Byron  !  He  always  knew  her  inducements  ;  her 
pride  shut  her  eyes  to  his ;  he  wished  to  build  up  his 
character  and  his  fortunes  ;  both  were  somewhat  de- 
ranged ;  she  had  a  high  name,  and  would  have  a 
fortune  worth  his  attention — let  her  look  to  that  for 
his  motives !" 

*"0h,  Byron,  Byron,"  she  said,  "how  you  desolate 
me  !"  He  would  then  accuse  himself  of  being  mad, 
and  throw  himself  on  the  ground  in  a  frenzy,  which 
Lady  Byron  believed  was  affected  to  conceal  the  cold- 
ness and  malignity  of  his  heart — an  affectation  which 
at  that  time  never  failed  to  meet  with  the  tenderest 
commiseration.  .  .  .  Lady  Byron  saw  the  precipice 
on  which  she  stood,  and  kept  his  sister  with  her  as 
much  as  possible.  He  returned  in  the  evenings  from 
the  haunts  of  vice,  where  he  made  her  understand 
he  had  been,  with  manners  so  profligate. 

"*  Oh,  wretch!"  said  L  "And  had  he  no  moments 
of  remorse  ?"  "  Sometimes  he  appeared  to  have  them," 
replied  Lady  Byron.  "  One  night,  coming  home  from 
one  of  his  lawless  parties,  he  saw  me  so  indignantly 
collected,  bearing  all  with  such  determined  calmness, 
that  a  rush  of  remorse  seemed  to  come  over  him  ;  he 
called  himself  a  monster,  though  his  sister  was  present, 
and  threw  himself  in  agony  at  my  feet.  He  said 
that  I  could  not — no,  I  could  not  forgive  him  such 
injuries.  He  was  sure  that  he  had  lost  me  for  ever ! 
Astonished  at  the  return  of  virtue,  my  tears,  I  believe, 
flowed  over  his  face,  and  I  said  :  *  Byron,  all  is  for- 
gotten;  never,  never  shall  you  hear  of  it  more!'  He 
started  up,  and,  folding  his  arms  while  he  looked  at 
me,  burst  into  laughter.  'What  do  you  mean  ?' said 
L  'Only  a  philosophical  experiment,  that's  all,' said 
he.  '  I  wished  to  ascertain  the  value  of  your  resolu- 
tions.' " 


TEMPERAMENT  OF  BYRON  331 

*  I  need  not  say  more  of  this  prince  of  duplicity,' 
continues  Lady  Anne  Barnard,  '  except  that  varied 
were  his  methods  of  rendering  her  wretched,  even 
to  the  last.' 

There  is  enough  evidence  in  the  above  statement  to 
show  that  a  separation  between  Lord  and  Lady  Byron 
was  inevitable.  Byron's  temper,  always  capricious, 
became  ungovernable  under  the  vexatious  exigencies 
of  his  financial  affairs.  Several  executions  had  taken 
place  in  their  house  during  the  year,  and  it  is  said  that 
even  the  beds  upon  which  they  slept  Vv^ere  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  bailiffs. 

It  has  been  shown  by  those  who  knew  Byron  well 
that  he  was  never  suited  to  the  married  state.  His 
temperament  was  an  obstacle  to  happiness  in  marriage. 
He  lacked  the  power  of  self-command,  and  the  irrita- 
tion produced  by  the  shattered  state  of  his  fortune 
drove  him  at  times  to  explosions,  which  were  very 
like  madness.  We  have  an  example  of  this  in  his 
conduct  one  night  in  Ithaca,  when  his  companions 
were  afraid  to  enter  his  room.  Lady  Byron  could 
not  meet  these  explosions  in  any  effectual  manner. 
The  more  fiercely  he  vented  his  exasperation,  the 
colder  she  became.  Lady  Byron,  like  her  husband, 
was  a  spoilt  child  who  set  her  own  self-will  against 
his.  If  she  had  possessed  more  tact  and  deeper  affec- 
tions, she  might  possibly  have  managed  him.  We 
frankly  admit  that  Byron's  conduct  during  this  period 
was  not  calculated  to  win  the  love  and  respect  of  any 
woman.  During  his  mad  moods  he  did  his  utmost  to 
blacken  his  own  character,  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  Lady  Byron,  who  had  heard  much  of  his  conduct 
before  marriage,  implicitly  believed  him.  His  so-called 
'mystifications'  were  all  taken  seriously.     She  was. 


332  'ASTARTE' 

moreover,  of  a  jealous  nature,  and  Byron  delighted  to 

torment  her  by  suggestions  of  immorality  which  had 

no  foundation  in  fact.     In  such  a  character  as  Lady 

Byron's,  a  hint  was  enough  to  awaken  the  darkest 

suspicions,  and  when  an  impression  had  been  stamped 

on  her  mind  it  was  impossible  to  remove  it.     Byron, 

of  course,  fanned  the  flame,  for  he  was  bored  to  death 

in  the  bonds  of  wedlock,  and  we  are  inclined  to  believe 

that  he  did  many  outrageous  things  in  order  to  drive 

his  wife  on  the  road  to  a  separation.    When  the  moment 

came  he  was  sorry,  but  he  certainly  brought  matters 

designedly  to  a  crisis.     His  sister  Augusta  was  much 

in  favour  of  his  marriage,  and  had  strong  hopes  that 

happiness  was  in  store  for  them,  as  the  following  letter 

will  show : 

'Six  Mile  Bottom, 

'February  15,  1815. 
'  My  dear  Mr.  Hodgson, 

*  You  could  not  have  gratified  me  more  than  by 
giving  me  an  opportunity  of  writing  on  my  favourite 
subject  to  one  so  truly  worthy  of  it  as  you  are  ;  indeed, 
I  have  repeatedly  wished  of  late  that  I  could  com- 
municate with  you.  Most  thankful  do  I  feel  that  I 
have  so  much  to  say  that  will  delight  you.  I  have 
every  reason  to  think  that  my  beloved  B.  is  very 
happy  and  comfortable.  I  hear  constantly  from  him 
and  /lis  Rib.  They  are  now  at  Seaham,  and  not  in- 
clined to  return  to  Halnaby,  because  all  the  world  were 
preparing  to  visit  them  there,  and  at  Seaham  they  are 
free  from  this  torment,  no  trifling  one  in  B.'s  estima- 
tion, as  you  know.  From  my  own  observations  on 
their  epistles,  and  knowledge  of  B.'s  disposition  and 
ways,  I  really  hope  most  confidently  that  all  will  turn 
out  very  happily.  It  appears  to  me  that  Lady  Byron 
seis  aboui  making  him  happy  quite  in  the  right  way. 
It  is  true  I  judge  at  a  distance,  and  we  generally  hope 
as  we  wish;  but  I  assure  you  I  don't  conclude  hastily 
on  this  subject,  and  will  own  to  you,  what  I  would 
not  scarcely  to  any  other  person,  that  I  had  many 
fears  and  much  anxiety  founded  upon  many  causes  and 


BYRON  AS  A  MARRIED  MAN  333 

circmnstances  of  which  1  cannot  write.  Thank  God  ! 
that  they  do  not  appear  likely  to  be  realized.  In  short, 
there  seems  to  me  to  be  but  one  drawback  to  all  our 
felicity,  and  that,  alas  !  is  the  disposal  of  dear  New- 
stead,  which  I  am  afraid  is  irrevocably  decreed.  I 
received  the  fatal  communication  from  Lady  Byron 
ten  days  ago,  and  will  own  to  you  that  it  was  not  only 
grief,  but  disappointment ;  for  I  flattered  myself  such 
a  sacrifice  would  not  be  made.  From  my  representa- 
tions she  had  said  and  urged  all  she  could  in  favour  of 
keeping  it.  Mr.  Hobhouse  the  same,  and  I  believe  that 
he  was  deputed  to  make  inquiries  and  researches,  and 
I  knew  that  he  wrote  to  B.  suggesting  the  propriety 
and  expediency  of  at  least  delaying  the  sale.  This 
most  excellent  advice  created  so  much  disturbance  in 
Byron's  mind  that  Lady  B.  wrote  me  word,  "  He  had 
such  a  fit  of  vexation  he  could  not  appear  at  dinner,  or 
leave  his  room.  .  .  ."  B.'s  spirits  had  improved  at  the 
prospect  of  a  release  from  the  embarrassments  which 
interfered  so  much  with  his  comfort,  and  I  suppose  I 
ou^ht  to  be  satisfied  with  this.  ,  .  .  May  the  future 
brmg  peace  and  comfort  to  my  dearest  B.  !  that  is 
always  one  of  my  first  wishes  ;  and  I  am  convinced  it 
is  my  duty  to  endeavour  to  be  resigned  to  the  loss  of 
this  dear  Abbey  from  our  family,  as  well  as  all  other 
griefs  which  are  sent  by  Him  who  knows  what  is  good 
for  us.  .  .  .  I  do  not  know  what  are  B.'s  plans.  Lady 
Byron  says  nothing  can  be  decided  upon  till  their 
affairs  are  in  some  degree  arranged.  They  have  been 
anxious  to  procure  a  temporary  habitation  in  my 
neighbourhood,  which  would  be  convenient  to  him 
and  delightful  to  me,  if  his  presence  is  required  in 
Town  upon  this  sad  Newstead  business.  But  I  am 
sorry  to  say  I  cannot  hear  of  any  likely  to  suit  them ; 
and  our  house  is  so  very  small,  I  could  scarcely  con- 
trive to  take  them  in.  Lady  B.  is  extremely  kind  to 
me,  for  which  I  am  most  grateful,  and  to  my  dearest  B., 
for  I  am  w^ell  aware  how  much  I  am  indebted  to  his 
partiality  and  affection  for  her  good  opinion.  I  will 
not  give  up  the  hope  of  seeing  them  on  their  way  to 
Town,  whenever  they  do  go,  as  for  a  few  nights  they 
would,  perhaps,  tolerate  the  innumerable  inconveni- 
ences attending  the  best  arrangements  I  could  make  for 
them.  .  .  .     My  babes  are  all  quite  well ;  Medoramore 


334  '  ASTARTE ' 

beautiful  than  ever.  .  .  .  Lady  B.  writes  me  word 
she  never  saw  her  father  and  mother  so  happy :  that 
she  beheves  the  latter  would  go  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  herself  to  find  fish  for  B.'s  dinner,  and  that  Byron 
owns  at  last  that  he  is  very  happy  and  comfortable  at 
Seaham,  though  he  had  predetermined  to  be  very  miser- 
able. In  some  of  her  letters  she  mentions  his  health 
not  being  very  good,  though  he  seldom  complains,  but 
says  that  his  spirits  have  been  improved  by  some 
daily  walks  she  had  prevailed  on  him  to  take ;  and 
attributes  much  of  his  languor  in  the  morning  and 
feverish  feels  at  night  to  his  long  fasts,  succeeded  by  too 
hearty  meals  for  any  weak  and  empty  stomach  to  bear  at 
one  time,  waking  by  night  and  sleeping  by  day.  I  flatter 
myself  her  influence  will  prevail  over  these  bad  habits.' 

On  March  i8,  i8i 5,  Augusta  Leigh  again  writes  to 
Byron's  friend,  the  Rev.  Francis  Hodgson,  from  Six 
Mile  Bottom  : 

'  B.  and  Lady  Byron  arrived  here  last  Sunday  on 
their  way  from  the  North  to  London,  where  they  have 
taken  a  very  good  house  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  in 
Piccadilly.  I  hope  they  will  stay  some  days  longer 
with  me,  and  I  shall  regret  their  departure,  whenever 
it  takes  place,  as  much  as  I  now  delight  in  their 
society.  Byron  is  looking  remarkably  well,  and  of 
Lady  B.  I  scarcely  know  how  to  write,  for  I  have  a 
sad  trick  of  being  struck  dumb  when  I  am  most  happy 
and  pleased.  The  expectations  I  had  formed  could 
not  be  exceeded,  but  at  least  they  are  fully  answered. 

'  I  think  I  never  saw  or  heard  or  read  of  a  more 
perfect  being  in  mortal  mould  than  she  appears  to  be, 
and  scarcely  dared  flatter  myself  such  a  one  would  fall 
to  the  lot  of  my  dear  B.  He  seems  quite  sensible  of 
her  value,  and  as  happy  as  the  present  alarming  state 
of  public  and  the  tormenting  uncertainties  of  his  own 
private  affairs  will  admit  of.  Colonel  Leigh  is  in  the 
North.' 

On  March  31,  181 5,  Mrs.  Leigh  again  writes  to 
Hodgson : 

'  Byron  and  Lady  B.  left  me  on  Tuesday  for  London. 
B.  will  probably  write  to  you  immediately.     He  talked 


BYRON  NERVOUS  AND  IRRITABLE     335 

of  it  while  here  after  I  received  your  last  letter,  which 
was  the  cause  of  ni)>  being  silent.  ...  I  am  sorry  to 
say  his  nerves  and  spirits  are  very  far  from  what  I 
wish  them,  but  don't  speak  of  this  to  him  on  any 
account. 

'  I  think  the  uncomfortable  state  of  his  affairs  is  the 
cause  ;  at  least,  I  can  discern  no  other.  He  has  every 
outward  blessing  this  world  can  bestow.  I  trust  that 
the  Almighty  will  be  graciously  pleased  to  grant  him 
those  mzvard  feelings  of  peace  and  calm  which  are  now 
unfortunately  wanting.  This  is  a  subject  which  I  can- 
not dwell  upon,  but  in  which  I  feel  and  have  felt  all  you 
express.  I  think  Lady  Byron  very  judiciously  abstains 
from  pressing  the  consideration  of  it  upon  him  at  the 
present  moment.  In  short,  the  more  I  see  of  her  the 
more  I  love  and  esteem  her,  and  feel  how  grateful  I 
am,  and  ought  to  be,  for  the  blessing  of  such  a  wife  for 
my  dear,  darling  Byron.' 

Augusta's  next  letter  is  written  from  13,  Piccadilly 
Terrace,  on  April  29,  181 5,  about  three  weeks  after 
her  arrival  there  on  a  visit  to  the  Byrons.  It  also  is 
addressed  to  Hodgson,  and  conveys  the  following- 
message  from  Byron  : 

'  I   am   desired  to  add  :   Lady  B.   is  ,  and  that 

Lord  Wentworth  has  left  all  to  her  mother,  and  then 
to  Lady  Byron  and  children ;  but  Byron  is,  lie  says,  "  a 
very  miserable  dog  for  all  that."' 

At  the  end  of  June,  181 5,  Augusta  Leigh  ended  her 
visit,  and  returned  to  Six  Mile  Bottom.  There  seems 
to  have  been  some  unpleasantness  between  Augusta 
and  Lady  Byron  during  those  ten  weeks. 

Two  months  later,  on  September  4,  181 5,  Augusta 
Leigh  writes  again  to  Hodgson  : 

'Your  letter  reached  me  at  a  time  of  much  hurry 
and  confusion,  which  has  been  succeeded  by  many 
events  of  an  afQicting  nature,  and  compelled  me  often 
to  neglect  those  to  whom  I  feel  most  pleasure  in 
writing.  .  .  .     My   brother   has  just   left   me,   having 


336  '  ASTARTE ' 

been  here  since  last  Wednesday,  when  he  arrived 
very  unexpectedly.  I  never  saw  him  so  well,  and  he 
is  in  the  best  spirits,  and  desired  me  to  add  his  con- 
gratulations to  mine  upon  your  marriage.' 

On  November  15,  181 5,  Augusta  Leigh  arrived  at 
13,  Piccadilly  Terrace,  on  a  long  visit. 

It  cannot  have  been  a  pleasant  experience  for 
Augusta  Leigh,  this  wretched  period  which  culminated 
in  a  dire  catastrophe  for  all  concerned.  Lord  Lovelace 
tells  us  that,  when  Mrs.  Leigh  came  to  stay  with  them 
in  November,  Byron  *  seemed  much  alienated  from  his 
sister,  and  was  entirely  occupied  with  women  at  the 
theatre.'    And  yet 

*  the  impressions  of  Mrs.  LeigJis  miilt  had  been  forced 
into  Lady  Byron's  mind  chiefly  by  incidents  and  con- 
versations ivhich  occurred  zvhile  they  were  all  under  one 
roof 

What  may  have  given  rise  to  these  suspicions  is 
not  recorded — probably  Byron's  mystifications,  which 
were  all  taken  seriously.  But  there  is  no  attempt  to 
deny  the  fact  that,  during  this  painful  time.  Lady 
Byron  owed  deep  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  who  had 
faithfully  striven  to  protect  her  when  ill  and  in  need 
of  sympathy.  It  was  during  this  period  that  Lady 
Byron  wrote  the  following  cryptic  note  to  Byron's 
sister : 

'  You  will  think  me  ver3'^  foolish,  but  I  have  tried 
two  or  three  times,  and  cannot  talk  to  you  of  your 
departure  with  a  decent  visage  ;  so  let  me  say  one 
word  in  this  way  to  spare  my  philosophy.  With  the 
expectations  which  I  have,  I  never  will  nor  can  ask 
you  to  stay  one  moment  longer  than  you  are  inclined 
to  do.  It  would  be  the  worst  return  for  all  I  ever 
received  from  you.  But,  in  this  at  least,  I  am  "  truth 
itself"  when  I  say  that,  whatever  the  situation  may  be, 
there  is  no  one  whose  society  is  dearer  to  me,  or  can 


THE  BIRTH  OF  ADA  337 

contribute  more  to  my  happiness.  These  feelings  will 
not  change  under  any  circumstances,  and  I  should  be 
grieved  if  you  did  not  understand  them. 

*  Should  you  hereafter  condemn  me,  I  shall  not  love 
you  less.  I  will  sa}'^  no  more.  Judge  for  yourself 
about  going  or  staying.  I  wish  you  to  consider  your- 
self, if  you  could  be  wise  enough  to  do  that  for  the 
first  time  in  your  life.' 

On  December  10,  181 5,  Lady  Byron  gave  birth  to  a 
daughter.     Lord  Lovelace  says  : 

'  About  three  weeks  after  Lady  Byron's  confinement, 
the  aversion  Byron  had  already  at  times  displayed 
towards  her  struck  everyone  in  the  house  as  more 
formidable  than  ever.  Augusta,  George  Byron,  and 
Mrs.  Clermont,  were  then  all  staying  in  the  house,  and 
were  very  uneasy  at  his  unaccountable  manner  and 
talk.  He  assumed  a  more  threatening  aspect  towards 
Lady  Byron.  There  were  paroxysms  of  frenzy,  but  a 
still  stronger  impression  was  created  by  the  frequent 
hints  he  gave  of  some  suppressed  and  bitter  deter- 
mination. He  often  spoke  of  his  conduct  and  intentions 
about  women  of  the  theatre,  particularly  on  January  3, 
1 8 16,  when  he  came  to  Lady  Byron's  room  and  talked 
on  that  subject  with  considerable  violence.  After  that 
he  did  not  go  any  more  to  see  her  or  the  child,  but 
three  days  later  sent  her  the  following  note  : 

^''January  6,  1816. 

* "  When  you  are  disposed  to  leave  London,  it  would 
be  convenient  that  a  day  should  be  fixed — and  (if  pos- 
sible) not  a  very  remote  one  for  that  purpose.  Of 
my  opinion  upon  that  subject  you  are  sufficiently  in 
possession,  and  of  the  circumstances  which  have  led 
to  it,  as  also  to  my  plans — or,  rather,  intentions — for 
the  future.  When  in  the  country  I  will  write  to  you 
more  fully — as  Lady  Noel  has  asked  you  to  Kirkby  ; 
there  you  can  be  for  the  present,  unless  you  prefer 
Seaham, 

*"As  the  dismissal  of  the  present  establishment  is 
of  importance  to  me,  the  sooner  you  can  fix  on  the 
day  the  better — though,  of  course,  your  convenience 
and  inclination  shall  be  first  consulted. 

22 


338  '  ASTARTE ' 

*  "  The  child  will,  of  course,  accompany  you  :  there 
is  a  more  easy  and  safer  carriage  than  the  chariot 
(unless  you  prefer  it)  which  I  mentioned  before — on 
that  you  can  do  as  you  please.'" 

The  next  day  Lady  Byron  replied  in  writing  as 
follows  :  *  I  shall  obey  your  wishes,  and  fix  the  earliest 
day  that  circumstances  will  admit  for  leaving  London.' 

Consequently  she  quitted  London  on  January  15, 
1 8 16.  Soon  after  Lady  Byron's  arrival  at  Kirkby,  her 
mother  drew  from  her  some  of  the  circumstances  of 
her  misery.  Lady  Byron  then  told  her  mother  that 
she  believed  her  life  would  be  endangered  by  a  return 
to  her  husband.  She  expressed  an  opinion  that  Byron 
was  out  of  his  mind,  although  he  seemed  competent 
to  transact  matters  connected  with  his  business  affairs. 
Lady  Noel,  naturally,  took  her  daughter's  part  entirely, 
and  went  to  London  to  seek  legal  advice.  During  her 
stay  in  London,  Lady  Noel  saw  Augusta  Leigh  and 
George  Byron,  who  agreed  with  her  that  every 
endeavour  should  be  made  to  induce  Byron  to  agree 
to  a  separation.  She  also  consulted  Sir  Samuel 
Romilly,  Sergeant  Heywood,  Dr.  Lushington,  and 
Colonel  Francis  Doyle,  an  old  friend  of  the  Milbanke 
family.  They  all  agreed  that  a  separation  was 
necessary.  It  was  perhaps  a  very  natural  view  to 
take  of  a  marriage  which  had  run  its  short  course  so 
tempestuously,  but  there  were  no  grounds  other  than 
incompatibility  of  temperament  upon  which  to  base 
that  conclusion. 

'Nothing  had  been  said  at  this  time,'  says  Lord 
Lovelace,  *  by  Lady  Byron  of  her  suspicions  about 
Augusta,  except,  apparently,  a  few  incoherent  words  to 
Lady  Noel,  when  telling  her  that  Lord  Byron  had 
threatened  to  take  the  child  away  from  her  and  commit 
it  to  Augusta's  charge.' 


BYRON  WISHES  TO  MAKE  PEACE      339 

Byron,  says  Lord  Lovelace,*  '  was  very  changeable 
at  this  time,  sometimes  speaking  kindly  of  his  wife — 
though  never  appearing  to  wish  her  to  return — and 
the  next  hour  he  would  say  that  the  sooner  Lady 
Byron's  friends  arranged  a  separation,  the  better.' 

This  statement  is  a  fair  example  of  the  manner  in 
which  Lord  Lovelace  handles  his  facts  and  documents. 
Mr.  Hobhouse,  who  was  in  a  position  to  know  the 
truth,  has  recently  shown  that  Byron  was  very  anxious 
for  his  wife's  return,  was  indeed  prepared  to  make 
great  sacrifices  to  attain  that  object,  and  resolutely 
opposed  the  wishes  of  those  persons  who  tried  to 
arrange  a  legal  separation.  It  was  not  until  Lady 
Byron  herself  reminded  him  of  a  promise  which  he  had 
once  made  to  her  that,  '  when  convinced  her  conduct 
had  not  been  influenced  by  others,  he  should  not 
oppose  her  wishes,'  that  he  consented  to  sign  the  deed 
of  separation.  He  had  done  enough  to  show  that  he 
was  not  afraid  of  any  exposure  which  might  have 
affected  his  honour,  and  was  willing,  if  necessary,  to 
go  into  a  court  of  law,  but  he  could  not  resist  the 
petition  of  his  wife.t  It  is  also  extremely  improbable 
that  Byron  should,  *  towards  the  end  of  January,  have 
spoken  of  proposing  a  separation  himself,'  in  view  of 
the  letters  which  he  wrote  to  his  wife  on  February  5, 
and  February  8  following.! 

On  February  2  Sir  Ralph  Noel,  under  legal  advice, 

wrote  a  stiff  letter  requiring  a  separation.     Byron  at 

that   time   positively  refused   to   accept   these  terms. 

The  whole  affair  then  became  publicly  known.    Every 

kind  of  report  was  spread  about  him,  and  especially 

*  '  Astarte,'  p.  137. 

t  '  Recollections  of  a  Long  Life,'  by  Lord  Broughton,  vol.  ii., 
p.  297. 

X  Ibid.,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  219,  239. 

22 — 2 


340  •  ASTARTE ' 

the  scandal  about  Augusta  was  noised  abroad  by  Lady 
Caroline  Lamb  and  Mr.  Brougham.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  whatever  that  Byron  heard  of  this  report,  and 
paid  very  little  attention  to  it.  He  found  out  then,  or 
soon  afterwards,  how  the  scandal  arose. 

Lady  Byron's  relations  were  bent  on  arranging  an 
amicable  separation.  Should  Byron  persist  in  his 
refusal,  it  was  intended  to  institute  a  suit  in  the 
Ecclesiastical  Court  to  obtain  a  divorce  on  the  plea  of 
adultery  and  cruelty.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that 
a  charge  of  adultery  could  not  have  been  substantiated 
at  that  time. 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Byron,  who  had  lately  acquired 
some  documents,  which  were  unknown  to  her  when 
she  left  her  husband  on  January  15,*  came  to  London 
on  February  22,  and  had  a  long  private  conversation 
with  Dr.  Lushington.  She  then  showed  him  two 
packets  of  letters  which  Mrs.  Clermont  had  abstracted 
from  Byron's  writing-desk.  Lady  Byron  received 
those  letters  some  time  between  February  14  and 
22,  1 8 16,  One  packet  contained  missives  from  a 
married  lady,  with  whom  Byron  had  been  intimate 
previous  to  his  marriage.  It  appears  that  Lady 
Byron  —  whose  notions  of  the  ordinary  code  ot 
honour  were  peculiar — sent  those  letters  to  that 
lady's  husband,  who,  like  a  sensible  man,  threw  them 
into  the  fire.  Of  the  other  packet  we  cannot  speak  so 
positively.  It  probably  comprised  letters  from  Augusta 
Leigh,  referring  to  the  child  Medora.f    Such  expres- 

*  *  Lady  Byron  said  that  she  founded  her  determination  [to  part 
from  her  husband]  on  some  communication  from  London.' — '  Recol- 
lections of  a  Long  Life,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  255. 

+  'There  is  reason  to  believe  that  Lord  Chief  Justice  Cockburn 
privately  saw  letters  [in  1869]  of  1813  and  1814  which  proved  the 
fact  of  incest,  and  the  overwhelming  effect  of  the  evidence  therein 
contained.' — '  Astarte,'  p.  54. 


MRS.  CLERMONT'S  TREACHERY        341 

sions  as  'our  child'  or  'your  child'  would  have  fallen 
quite  naturally  from  her  pen  under  the  circumstances. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  effect  of  some  such  words 
upon  the  suspicious  mind  of  Lady  Byron.  By  Mrs. 
Clermont's  masterful  stroke  of  treachery,  strong  pre- 
sumptive evidence  was  thus  brought  against  Augusta 
Leigh.  The  letters  undoubtedly  convinced  Dr.  Lushing- 
ton  that  incest  had  taken  place,  and  he  warned  Lady 
Byron  against  any  personal  intercourse  with  Mrs. 
Leigh.  He  at  the  same  time  advised  her  to  keep  her 
lips  closed  until  Augusta  had  of  her  own  free  will 
confessed ;  and  pointed  out  to  Lady  Byron  that, 
•  while  proofs  and  impressions  were  such  as  left  no 
doubt  on  her  mind,  they  were  decidedly  not  such  as  coidd 
have  been  brought  forward  to  establish  a  charge  of  incest, 
in  the  event  of  Lady  Byron  being  challenged  to  bring 
forward  the  grounds  of  her  imputation^* 

From  that  moment  all  Lady  Byron's  wiles  were 
employed  to  extract  a  confession  from  Augusta  Leigh, 
which  would  have  gone  far  to  justify  Lady  Byron's 
conduct  in  leaving  her  husband.  Soon  after  this 
momentous  interview  with  Dr.  Lushington,  an  ugly 
rumour  was  spread  about  town  affecting  Mrs.  Leigh's 
character. 

Lord  Lovelace  says : 

'When  Augusta's  friends  vehemently  and  indig- 
nantly resented  such  a  calumny,  they  were  met  with 
the  argument  that  Lady  Byron's  refusal  to  assign  a 
reason  for  her  separation  confirmed  the  report,  and  that 
no  one  but  Augusta  could  deny  it  with  any  effect.' 

This,  by  the  nature  of  her  agreement  with  Byron, 
was  impossible,  and  Mrs.  Clermont's  treachery  held 
her  in  a  vice. 

*  '  Astartc,'  p.  77. 


342  '  ASTARTE ' 

During  January  and  February,  1816,  Lady  Byron, 
who  strongly  suspected  Mrs.  Leigh's  conduct  to  have 
been  disloyal  to  herself,  wrote  the  most  affectionate 
letters  to  that  lady. 

'KiRKBY   MaLLORY. 

'My  dearest  A., 

*  It  is  my  great  comfort  that  you  are  in  Picca- 
dilly.' 

'KiRKBY   MaLLORY, 

'  January  23,  1816. 

'  Dearest  A,, 

'  I  know  you  feel  for  me  as  I  do  for  you,  and 
perhaps  I  am  better  understood  than  I  think.  You 
have  been,  ever  since  I  knew  you,  my  best  comforter, 
and  will  so  remain,  unless  you  grow  tired  of  the  office, 
which  may  well  be.' 

'January  25,  1816, 

'My  dearest  Augusta, 

*  Shall  I  still  be  your  sister  ?  I  must  resign  my 
rights  to  be  so  considered  ;  but  I  don't  think  that  will 
make  any  difference  in  the  kindness  1  have  so  uniformly 
experienced  from  you.' 

'  KiRKBY   MaLLORY, 

'  February  3,  1816. 

'  My  dearest  Augusta, 

'  You  are  desired  by  your  brother  to  ask  if  my 
father  has  acted  with  my  concurrence  in  proposing 
a  separation.  He  has.  It  cannot  be  supposed  that, 
in  my  present  distressing  situation,  I  am  capable  of 
stating,  in  a  detailed  manner,  the  reasons  which  will 
not  only  justify  this  measure,  but  compel  me  to  take 
it ;  and  it  never  can  be  my  wish  to  remember  unneces- 
sarily those  injuries  for  which,  however  deep,  I  feel 
no  resentment.  I  will  now  only  recall  to  Lord  Byron's 
mind  his  avowed  and  insurmountable  aversion  to  the 
married  state,  and  the  desire  and  determination  he 
has  expressed  ever  since  its  commencement  to  free 
himself  from  that  bondage,  as  finding  it  quite  insup- 
portable, though  candidly  acknowledging  that  no 
effort  of  duty  or  affection  has  been  wanting  on  my 
part.     He   has   too   painfully   convinced   me   that   all 


LADY  BYRON'S  LETTERS  343 

these  attempts  to  contribute  towards  his  happiness 
were  wholly  useless,  and  most  unwelcome  to  him.  I 
enclose  this  letter  to  my  father,  wishing  it  to  receive 
his  sanction. 

*  Ever  yours  most  affectionately, 

'  A.  I.  Byron.' 


'February  4,  1816. 

*  I  hope,  my  dear  A.,  that  you  would  on  no  account 
withhold  from  your  brother  the  letter  which  I  sent 
yesterday,  in  answer  to  yours  written  by  his  desire  ; 
particularly  as  one  which  I  have  received  from  himself 
to-day  renders  it  still  more  important  that  he  should 
know  the  contents  of  that  addressed  to  you.  I  am,  in 
haste  and  not  very  well, 

*  Yours  most  affectionately, 

'  A.  I.  Byron.' 


'KiRKBY   MaLLORY, 

'February  14,  1816. 

'  The  present  sufferings  of  all  may  yet  be  repaid  in 
blessings.  Do  not  despair  absolutely,  dearest ;  and 
leave  me  but  enough  of  your  interest  to  afford  you 
any  consolation,  by  partaking  of  that  sorrow  which  I 
am  most  unhappy  to  cause  thus  unintentionally. 

'  You  zvtll  be  of  my  opinion  hereafter,  and  at  present 
your  bitterest  reproach  would  be  forgiven  ;  though 
Heaven  knows  you  have  considered  me  more  than  a 
thousand  would  have  done — more  than  anything  but 
my  affection  for  B.,  one  most  dear  to  you,  could 
deserve.  I  must  not  remember  these  feelings.  Fare- 
well !     God  bless  you,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

•  A.  L  B.' 

It  is  only  fair  to  remind  the  reader  that,  when  these 
letters  were  written,  Lady  Byron  had  not  consulted 
Dr.  Lushington.  We  are  inclined  to  think  that  the 
last  letter  was  written  on  the  day  when  she  received 
Mrs.  Clermont's  '  proofs.'  Meanwhile,  Augusta,  un- 
conscious that  an  avalanche  of  scandal  threatened  to 


344  '  ASTARTE ' 

sweep  her  reputation  into  an  abyss,  was  catching  at 
every  straw  that  might  avert  a  catastrophe.  Her 
thoughts  turned  to  Hodgson,  whose  noble  character, 
sound  common-sense,  and  affection  for  Byron,  were 
undoubted.  It  was  possible,  she  thought,  that  the 
ruin  and  destruction  which  she  dreaded  for  her  brother 
might  be  averted  through  the  advice  and  assistance  of 
an  honourable  man  of  the  world.  In  that  wild  hope 
the  following  letters  were  written  : 

'  13,  Piccadilly  Terrace, 

'  Wednesday,  February  7,  1816. 

*  Dear  Mr.  Hodgson, 

'  Can  you  by  any  means  contrive  to  come  up  to 
Town  ?  Were  it  only  for  a  day,  it  might  be  of  the 
most  essential  service  to  a  friend  I  know  you  love  and 
value.  There  is  too  much  fear  of  a  separation  between 
him  and  his  wife.  No  time  is  to  be  lost,  but  even  if 
you  are  too  late  to  prevent  that  happening  decidedly^  yet 
it  would  be  the  greatest  comfort  and  relief  to  me  to 
confide  other  circumstances  to  you,  and  consult  you  ; 
and  so  if  possible  oblige  me,  if  only  for  twenty-four 
hours.  Say  not  a  word  of  my  summons,  but  attribute 
your  coming,  if  you  come,  to  business  of  your  own  or 
chance.  Excuse  brevity  ;  I  am  so  perfectly  wretched  I 
can  only  say, 

*  Ever  yours  most  truly, 

'  Augusta  Leigh. 

*  It  is  probable  I  may  be  obliged  to  go  home  next 
week.  If  my  scheme  appears  wild,  pray  attribute  it 
to  the  state  of  mind  I  am  in.  Alas  !  I  see  only  ruin 
and  destruction  in  every  shape  to  one  most  dear  to  me.' 

Hodgson  at  once  responded  to  this  appeal  by  taking 
the  first  stage-coach  to  London,  where  the  next  letter 
was  addressed  to  him  at  his  lodgings  near  Piccadilly  : 

*  How  very  good  of  you,  dear  Mr.  Hodgson  !  I 
intend  showing  the  letter  to  B.,  as  I  think  he  will 
jump  at  seeing  you  just  now,  but  I  must  see  you  first ; 


LETTERS  TO  HODGSON  345 

and  how?  I  am  now  going  to  Mr.  Hanson's  from  B. 
I'm  afraid  of  your  meeting  people  here  who  do  no  good, 
and  would  counteract  yours  ;  but  will  you  call  about 
two,  or  after  that,  and  ask  for  me  first?  I  shall  be 
home,  I  hope,  and  must  see  you.  If  I'm  out  ask  for 
Capt.  B. 

'  Yours  sincerely, 

'A.  L.' 


'  Friday  evening,  g  o'clock. 

*  Dear  Mr.  Hodgson, 

'  I've  been  unable  to  write  to  you  till  this 
moment.  Mr.  H.*  stayed  till  a  late  hour,  and  is  now 
here  again.  B.  dined  with  me,  and  after  I  left  the 
room  I  sent  your  note  in,  thinking  him  in  better  spirits 
and  more  free  from  irritations.  He  has  only  just 
mentioned  it  to  me :  "  Oh,  by-the-by,  I've  had  a  note 
from  H.,  Augusta,  whom  you  must  write  to,  and  say 
I'm  so  full  of  domestic  calamities  that  I  can't  see  any- 
body." Still,  I  think  he  will  see  you  if  he  hears  you 
are  here,  or  that  even  it  would  be  better,  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst,  to  let  the  servant  announce  you 
and  walk  in.  Can  you  call  here  about  eleven  to- 
morrow morning,  when  he  will  not  be  up,  or  scarcely 
awake,  and  Capt.  B.,  you,  and  I,  can  hold  a  council  on 
what  is  best  to  be  done  ?  The  fact  is,  he  is  now  a/raid 
of  everybody  who  would  tell  him  the  truth.  It  is  a 
most  dreadful  situation,  dear  Mr.  H. !  The  worst  is, 
that  if  3^ou  said  you  have  done  so-and-so,  etc.,  he 
would  deny  it ;  and  I  see  he  is  afraid  of  your  despair, 
as  he  terms  it,  when  you  hear  of  his  situation,  and,  in 
short,  of  your  telling  him  the  truth.  He  can  only  bear 
to  see  those  who  flatter  him  and  encourage  him  to  all 
that  is  wrong.  I've  not  mentioned  having  seen  you, 
because  I  wish  him  to  suppose  your  opinions  un- 
prejudiced. You  must  see  him ;  and  pray  see  me  and 
George  B.  to-morrow  morning,  when  we  will  consult 
upon  the  best  means.  You  are  the  only  comfort  I've 
had  this  long  time.  I'm  quite  of  your  opinion  on  all 
that  is  to  be  feared. 

'  Ever  yours  truly, 

*A.  L.' 

*  Hanson. 


346  'ASTARTE' 

'  Piccadilly  Terrace. 
'  Dear  Mr.  H., 

*  About  three  you  will  be  sure  of  finding  me,  if 
not  sooner.  I've  sent  in  your  letter  ;  he  said  in  return 
I  was  to  do  what  I  pleased  about  it.  I  think  and  hope 
he  will  find  comfort  in  seeing  you. 

'  Yours  truly, 

'A.  L.' 

'  Saturday. 

•  Dear  Mr.  H., 

*  B.  will  see  you.  I  saw  him  open  your  note, 
and  said  I  had  given  his  message  this  morning,  when 
I  had  seen  you  and  talked  generally  on  the  subject  of 
his  present  situation,  of  which  you  had  before  heard. 
He  replied,  "  Oh,  then,  tell  him  I  will  see  him,  certainly; 
my  reason  for  not  was  the  fear  of  distressing  him." 
You  had  better  call  towards  three,  and  wait  if  he  is 
not  yet  out  of  his  room.  Mr.  Hanson  has  sent  for  me 
in  consequence  (probably)  of  your  interview.  I'm 
going  to  him  about  three  with  Capt.  B.,  but  have  said 
nothing  to  B.  of  this. 

*  Ever  yours, 

'A.  L.' 

Immediately  after  the  interview,  which  took  place 
on  the  day  after  the  last  note  was  written,  Hodgson, 
feeling  that  nothing  could  be  lost  and  that  much  might 
be  gained  by  judicious  remonstrance,  resolved  to 
hazard  an  appeal  to  Lady  Byron's  feelings — with  what 
success  will  be  seen  from  her  ladyship's  reply.  It  is 
impossible  to  over-estimate  the  combined  tact  and  zeal 
displayed  by  Hodgson  in  this  most  delicate  and  diffi- 
cult matter. 

'  Whether  I  am  outstepping  the  bounds  of  prudence 
in  this  address  to  your  ladyship  I  cannot  feel  assured  ; 
and  yet  there  is  so  much  at  stake  in  a  quarter  so  loved 
and  valuable  that  I  cannot  forbear  running  the  risk, 
and  making  one  effort  more  to  plead  a  cause  which 
your  ladyship's  own  heart  must  plead  with  a  power  so 


m 


AN  APPEAL  TO  LADY  BYRON"         347 

superior  to  all  other  voices.  If,  then,  a  word  that  is 
here  said  only  adds  to  the  pain  of  this  unhappy  con- 
flict between  affection  and  views  of  duty,  without 
lending  any  weight  of  reason  to  the  object  it  seeks,  I 
would  earnestly  implore  that  it  may  be  forgiven  ;  and, 
above  all,  the  interference  itself,  which  nothing  but  its 
obvious  motive  and  the  present  awful  circumstance 
could  in  any  way  justify. 

•  After  a  long  and  most  confidential  conversation 
with  my  friend  (whom  I  have  known  thoroughly,  I 
believe,  for  many  trying  years),  I  am  convinced  that 
the  deep  and  rooted  feeling  in  his  heart  is  regret  and 
sorrow  for  the  occurrences  which  have  so  deeply 
wounded  you;  and  the  most  unmixed  admiration  of 
your  conduct  in  all  its  particulars,  and  the  warmest 
affection.  But  may  I  be  allowed  to  state  to  Lady 
Byron  that  Lord  B.,  after  his  general  acknowledgment 
of  having  frequently  been  very  wrong,  and,  from 
various  causes,  in  a  painful  state  of  irritation,  yet 
declares  himself  ignorant  of  the  specific  things  which 
have  given  the  principal  offence,  and  that  he  wishes 
to  hear  of  them  ;  that  he  may,  if  extenuation  or  atone- 
ment be  possible,  endeavour  to  make  some  reply  ;  or, 
at  all  events,  may  understand  the  fulness  of  those 
reasons  which  have  now,  and  as  unexpectedly  as 
afflictingly,  driven  your  ladyship  to  the  step  you  have 
taken  ? 

'  It  would  be  waste  of  words  and  idle  presumption 
for  me,  however  your  ladyship's  goodness  might  be 
led  to  excuse  it,  to  observe  how  very  extreme,  how 
decidedly  irreconcilable,  such  a  case  should  be,  before 
the  last  measure  is  resorted  to.  But  it  may  not  be 
quite  so  improper  to  urge,  from  my  deep  conviction 
of  their  truth  and  importance,  the  following  reflections. 
I  entreat  your  ladyship's  indulgence  to  them.  What 
can  be  the  consequence,  to  a  man  so  peculiarly  con- 
stituted, of  such  an  event  ?  If  I  may  give  vent  to  my 
fear,  my  thorough  certaint}',  nothing  short  of  absolute 
and  utter  destruction.  I  turn  from  the  idea  ;  but  no 
being  except  your  ladyship  can  prevent  this.  None,  I 
am  thoroughly  convinced,  ever  could  have  done  so, 
notwithstanding  the  unhappy  appearances  to  the  con- 
trary. Whatever,  then,  may  be  against  it,  whatever 
restraining  remembrances  or  anticipations,  to  a  person 


348  '  ASTARTE ' 

who  was  not  already  qualified  by  sad  experience  to 
teach  this  very  truth,  I  would  say  that  there  is  a  claim 
paramount  to  all  others — that  of  attempting  to  save 
the  human  beings  nearest  and  dearest  to  us  from  the 
most  comprehensive  ruin  that  can  be  suffered  by 
them,  at  the  expense  of  any  suffering  to  ourselves. 

'  If  I  have  not  gone  too  far,  I  would  add  that  so 
suddenly  and  at  once  to  shut  every  avenue  to  return- 
ing comfort  must,  when  looked  back  upon,  appear  a 
strong  measure  ;  and,  if  it  proceeds  (pray  pardon  the 
suggestion)  from  the  unfortunate  notion  of  the  very 
person  to  whom  my  friend  now  looks  for  consolation 
being  unable  to  administer  it,  that  notion  I  would 
combat  with  all  the  energy  of  conviction ;  and  assert, 
that  whatever  unguarded  and  unjustifiable  words,  and 
even  actions,  may  have  inculcated  this  idea,  it  is  the 
very  rock  on  which  the  peace  of  both  would,  as  un- 
necessarily as  wretchedly,  be  sacrificed.  But  God 
Almighty  forbid  that  there  should  be  any  sacrifice. 
Be  all  that  is  right  called  out  into  action,  all  that  is 
wrong  suppressed  (and  by  your  only  instrumentality. 
Lady  Byron,  as  by  yours  only  it  can  be)  in  my  dear 
friend.  May  you  both  yet  be  what  God  intended  you 
for  :  the  support,  the  watchful  correction,  and  improve- 
ment, of  each  other !  Of  yourself,  Lord  B.  from  his 
heart  declares  that  he  would  wish  nothing  altered — 
nothing  but  that  sudden,  surely  sudden,  determination 
which  must  for  ever  destroy  one  of  you,  and  perhaps 
even  both.     God  bless  both  ! 

'  I  am,  with  deep  regard, 

'Your  ladyship's  faithful  servant, 

'  Francis  Hodgson,' 

Lady  Byron's  answer  was  as  follows  : 


'  KiRKBY, 

'  February  15,  1816, 

*  Dear  Sir, 

*  I  feel  most  sensibly  the  kindness  of  a  remon- 
strance which  equally  proves  your  friendship  for  Lord 
Byron  and  consideration  for  me.  I  have  declined  all 
discussion  of  this  subject  with  others,  but  my  know- 
ledge of  your  principles  induces  me  to  justify  my  own; 


LADY  BYRON'S  ANSWER  349 

and  yet  1  would  forbear  to  accuse  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. 

'  I  married  Lord  B.  determined  to  endure  everj^thing 
whilst  there  was  any  chance  of  my  contributing  to  his 
welfare.  I  remained  with  him  under  trials  of  the 
severest  nature.  In  leaving  him,  which,  however,  I 
can  scarcely  call  a  voluntary  measure,  I  probably  saved 
him  from  the  bitterest  remorse.  I  may  give  you  a 
general  idea  of  what  I  have  experienced  by  saying 
that  he  married  me  with  the  deepest  determination  of 
Revenge,  avowed  on  the  day  of  my  marriage,  and 
executed  ever  since  with  systematic  and  increasing 
cruelty,  which  no  affection  could  change.  .  .  .  My 
security  depended  on  the  total  abandonment  of  every 
moral  and  religious  principle,  against  which  (though  1 
trust  they  were  never  obtruded)  his  hatred  and  en- 
deavours were  uniformly  directed.  .  .  .  The  circum- 
stances, which  are  of  too  convincing  a  nature,  shall 
not  be  generally  known  whilst  Lord  B.  allows  me  to 
spare  him.  It  is  not  unkindness  that  can  always 
change  affection. 

*  With  you  I  may  consider  this  subject  in  a  less 
worldly  point  of  view.  Is  the  present  injury  to  his 
reputation  to  be  put  in  competition  with  the  danger  of 
unchecked  success  to  this  wicked  pride  ?  and  may  not 
his  actual  sufTerings  (in  which,  be  assured,  that  affec- 
tion for  me  has  very  little  share)  expiate  a  future 
account  ?  I  know  him  too  well  to  dread  the  fatal 
event  which  he  so  often  mysteriously  threatens.  I 
have  acquired  my  knowledge  of  him  bitterly  indeed, 
and  it  was  long  before  I  learned  to  mistrust  the  appar- 
ent candour  by  which  he  deceives  all  but  himself 
He  does  know— too  well— what  he  affects  to  inquire. 
You  reason  with  me  as  I  have  reasoned  with  myself, 
and  I  therefore  derive  from  your  letter  an  additional 
and  melancholy  confidence  in  the  rectitude  of  this 
determination,  which  has  been  deliberated  on  the 
grounds  that  you  would  approve.  It  was  not  sug- 
gested, and  has  not  been  enforced,  by  others ;  though 
it  is  sanctioned  by  my  parents. 

'You  will  continue  Lord  Byron's  friend,  and  the 
time  may  yet  come  when  he  will  receive  from  that 
friendship  such  benefits  as  he  now  rejects.  I  will  even 
indulge  the  consolatory  thought  that  the  remembrance 


350  'ASTARTE' 

of  me,  when  time  has  softened  the  irritation  created 
by  my  presence,  may  contribute  to  the  same  end.  May 
I  hope  that  you  will  still  retain  any  value  for  the 
regard  with  which  I  am, 

*  Your  most  obliged  and  faithful  servant, 

'A.  I.  Byron.' 

'  I  must  add  that  Lord  Byron  had  been  fully, 
earnestly,  and  affectionately  warned  of  the  unhappy 
consequences  of  his  conduct.' 

It  is  most  unfortunate  that  the  second  letter  which 
Hodgson  wrote  on  this  most  distressing  occasion  is 
lost,  but  some  clue  to  its  contents  may  be  gathered 
from  Lady  Byron's  reply  : 

'February  24,  1816. 

'  Dear  Sir, 

*  I  have  received  your  second  letter.  First  let 
me  thank  you  for  the  charity  with  which  you  consider 
my  motives  ;  and  now  of  the  principal  subject. 

*  I  eagerly  adopted  the  belief  on  insanity  as  a  con- 
solation ;  and  though  such  malady  has  been  found 
insufficient  to  prevent  his  responsibility  with  man, 
I  will  still  trust  that  it  may  latently  exist,  so  as  to 
acquit  him  towards  God.  This  no  human  being  can 
judge.  It  certainly  does  not  destroy  the  powers  of 
self-control,  or  impair  the  knowledge  of  moral  good 
and  evil.  Considering  the  case  upon  the  supposition 
of  derangement,  3'ou  may  have  heard,  what  every 
medical  adviser  would  confirm,  that  it  is  in  the  nature 
of  such  malady  to  reverse  the  affections,  and  to  make 
those  who  would  naturally  be  dearest,  the  greatest 
objects  of  aversion,  the  most  exposed  to  acts  of  violence, 
and  the  least  capable  of  alleviating  the  malady.  Upon 
such  grounds  my  absence  from  Lord  B.  was  medically 
advised  before  I  left  Town.  But  the  advisers  had  not 
then  seen  him,  and  since  Mr.  Le  Mann  has  had  oppor- 
tunities of  personal  observation,  it  has  been  found  that 
the  supposed  physical  causes  do  not  exist  so  as  to 
render  him  not  an  accountable  agent. 

*  I  believe  the  nature  of  Lord  B.'s  mind  to  be  most 
benevolent.     But  there  may  have  been  circumstances 


A  FRAIL  SECURITY  351 

(I  would  hope  the  consequences^  not  the  causes,  of 
mental  disorder)  which  would  render  an  original 
tenderness  of  conscience  the  motive  of  desperation — 
even  of  guilt — when  self-esteem  had  been  forfeited 
too  far.  No  external  motive  can  be  so  strong.  Good- 
ness of  heart — when  there  are  impetuous  passions 
and  no  principles — is  a  frail  security. 

*  Every  possible  means  have  been  employed  to  effect 
a  private  and  amicable  arrangement;  and  I  would  sacri- 
fice such  advantages  in  terms  as,  I  believe,  the  law 
would  insure  to  me,  to  avoid  this  dreadful  necessity. 
Yet  I  must  have  some  security,  and  Lord  B.  refuses  to 
afford  any.  If  you  could  persuade  him  to  the  agree- 
ment, you  would  save  me  from  what  I  most  deprecate, 
I  have  now  applied  to  Lord  Holland  for  that  end. 

'  If  you  wish  to  answer — and  I  shall  always  be 
happy  to  hear  from  you — I  must  request  3^ou  to 
enclose  your  letter  to  my  father.  Sir  Ralph  Noel, 
Mivart's  Hotel,  Lower  Brook  Street,  London,  as  I  am 
not  sure  where  I  may  be  at  that  time.  My  considera- 
tions of  duty  are  of  a  very  complicated  nature  ;  for  my 
duty  as  a  mother  seems  to  point  out  the  same  conduct 
as  I  pursue  upon  other  principles  that  I  have  partly 
explained. 

*  I  must  observe  upon  one  passage  of  j^our  letter 
that  I  had  {sic)  expectations  of  personal  violence, 
though  I  was  too  miserable  to  have  feelings  of  fear, 
and  those  expectations  would  now  be  still  stronger. 

'  In  regard  to  any  change  which  the  future  state  of 
Lord  B.'s  mind  might  justify  in  my  intentions,  an 
amicable  arrangement  would  not  destroy  the  opening 
for  reconciliation.  Pray  endeavour  to  promote  the 
dispositions  to  such  an  arrangement ;  there  is  every 
reason  to  desire  it. 

'  Yours  very  truly, 

*A.  I.  Byron.' 


It  is  worthy  of  note  that  Lady  Byron,  two  days  after 
her  interview  with  Lnshington,  here  states  that,  in  the 
event  of  '  an  amicable  arrangement '  (an  amicable 
separation)  being  arrived  at,  it  would  not  destroy  the 
opening  for  reconciliation.     This  is  an  extraordinary 


352  'ASTARTE' 

statement,  because,  as  we  have  seen,  Dr.  Lushington 
absolutely  declined  to  be  a  party  to  any  such  step. 
On  March  14  Lady  Byron  signed  a  declaration, 
giving  her  reasons  for  the  separation,  as  will  be  seen 
presently. 

On  March  16  Augusta  Leigh  returned  to  her  apart- 
ments in  St.  James's  Palace,  and  on  the  following  day 
Byron  consented  to  a  separation  from  his  wife.  On 
April  8  Lady  Jersey  gave  a  party  in  honour  of  Byron, 
and  to  show  her  sympathy  for  him  in  his  matrimonial 
troubles.  Both  Byron  and  Augusta  were  present,  but 
it  was  a  cold  and  spiritless  affair,  and  nothing  came  of 
this  attempt  to  stem  the  tide  of  prejudice. 

On  April  14  Augusta  parted  for  ever  from  her 
brother,  and  retired  into  the  country,  her  health 
broken  down  by  the  worry  and  anxiety  of  the  past 
three  months.  On  April  21  and  22,  18 16,  the  deed 
of  separation  was  signed  by  both  Lord  and  Lady 
Byron.  On  April  23  Byron  left  London,  and  travelled 
to  Dover  accompanied  by  his  friends  Hobhouse  and 
Scrope-Davies.  On  the  25th  he  embarked  for  Ostend, 
unable  to  face  the  consequences  of  his  quarrel  with 
his  wife. 

'  To  his  susceptible  temperament  and  generous 
feelings,'  says  his  schoolfellow  Harness,  '  the  reproach 
of  having  ill-used  a  woman  must  have  been  poignant 
in  the  extreme.  It  was  repulsive  to  his  chivalrous 
character  as  a  gentleman ;  it  belied  all  he  had  written 
of  the  devoted  fervour  of  his  attachments;  and  rather 
than  meet  the  frowns  and  sneers  which  awaited  him 
in  the  world,  as  many  a  less  sensitive  man  might  have 
done,  he  turned  his  back  on  them  and  fled.' 


« 


CHAPTER  III 

The  publication  of  '  Astarte'  has  had  one  good  result ; 
it  has  placed  beyond  question  the  precise  nature  of 
Lady  Byron's  complaints  against  her  husband.  On 
March  14,  1816,  Lady  Byron  was  induced  by  Dr. 
Lushington  to  draw  up  and  sign  a  statement  which 
would  be  useful  if  her  conduct  should  at  any  future 
time  be  criticized. 

We  place  the  entire  document  before  the  reader, 
just  as  it  appears  in  Lord  Lovelace's  book  : 

'STATEMENT.— A.  L. 

'  In  case  of  my  death  to  be  given  to  Colonel  Doyle. 

A.  I.  Byron, 
Thursday,  March  14,  1816.' 

'During  the  year  that  Lady  Byron  lived  under  the 
same  roof  with  Lord  B.  certain  circumstances  occurred, 
and  some  intimations  were  made,  which  excited  a  sus- 
picion in  Lady  B.'s  mind  that  an  improper  connection 
had  at  one  time,  and  might  even  still,  subsist  between 

Lord  B.  and  Mrs.  L .*     The  causes,  however,  of  this 

suspicion  did  not  amount  to  proof,  and  Lady  Byron 
did  not  consider  herself  justified  in  acting  upon  these 
suspicions  by  immediately  quitting  Lord  B.'s  house, 
for  the  following  reasons  : 

*  First  and  principally,  because  the  causes  of  suspicion, 
though  they  made  a  strong  impression  upon  her  mind, 

*  Leigh. 

353  23 


354  'ASTARTE' 

did  not  amount  to  positive  proof,  and  Lady  B.  con- 
sidered, that  whilst  a  possibility  of  innocence  existed, 
every  principle  of  duty  and  humanity  forbad  her  to 
act  as  if  Mrs.  Leigh  was  actually  guilty,  more  especially 
as  any  intimation  of  so  heinous  a  crime,  even  if  not  dis- 
tinctly proved,  must  have  seriously  affected  Mrs.  L.'s 
character  and  happiness. 

'  Secondly,  Lady  B.  had  it  not  in  her  power  to  pursue 
a  middle  course ;  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  her  to 
remove  Mrs.  L.  from  the  society  and  roof  of  Lord  B. 
except  by  a  direct  accusation. 

'  Thirdly,  because  Mrs.  L,  had  from  her  first  acquaint- 
ance with  Lady  B.  always  manifested  towards  her  the 
utmost  kindness  and  attention,  endeavouring  as  far  as 
laid  in  her  power  to  mitigate  the  violence  and  cruelty 
of  Lord  B. 

'  Fourthly,  because  Mrs.  L.  at  times  exhibited  signs 
of  a  deep  remorse  ;  at  least  so  Lady  B.  interpreted 
them  to  be,  though  she  does  not  mean  to  aver  that  the 
feelings  Mrs.  L.  then  showed  were  signs  of  remorse 
for  the  commission  of  the  crime  alluded  to,  or  any 
other  of  so  dark  a  description. 

*  And,  lastly,  because  Lady  B.  conceived  it  possible 
that  the  crime,  if  committed,  might  not  only  be  deeply 
repented  of,  but  never  have  been  perpetrated  since 
her  marriage  with  Lord  B. 

*  It  was  from  these  motives,  and  strongly  inclining 
to  a  charitable  interpretation  of  all  that  passed,  that 
Lady  B.  never  during  her  living  with  Lord  B.  inti- 
mated a  suspicion  of  this  nature.  Since  Lady  B.'s 
separation  from  Lord  B.  the  report  has  become  current 
in  the  world  of  such  a  connection  having  subsisted. 
This  report  was  not  spread  nor  sanctioned  by  Lady  B. 
Mrs.  L.'s  character  has,  however,  been  to  some  extent 
affected  thereby.  Lady  B.  cannot  divest  her  mind  of 
the  impressions  before  stated ;  but  anxious  to  avoid 
all  possibility  of  doing  injury  to  Mrs.  L.,  and  not  by 
any  conduct  of  her  own  to  throw  any  suspicion  upon 
Mrs.  L.,  and  it  being  intimated  that  Mrs.  L.  s  character 
can  never  be  so  effectually  preserved  as  by  a  renewal 
of  intercourse  with  Lady  B.,  she  does  for  the  motives 
and  reasons  before  mentioned  consent  to  renew  that 
intercourse. 

'  Now,  this   statement  is  made  in  order  to  justify 


i 


'BE  KIND  TO  AUGUSTA'  355 

Lady  B.  in  the  line  of  conduct  she  has  now  determined 
to  adopt,  and  in  order  to  prevent  all  misconstruction 
of  her  motives  in  case  Mrs.  L.  should  be  proved  here- 
after to  be  guilty ;  and,  if  any  circumstances  should 
compel  or  render  it  necessary  for  Lady  B.  to  prefer 
the  charge,  in  order  that  Lady  B.  may  be  at  full  liberty 
so  to  do  without  being  prejudiced  by  her  present 
conduct. 

'  It  is  to  be  observed  that  this  paper  does  not  contain 
nor  pretends  to  contain  any  of  the  grounds  which  gave 
rise  to  the  suspicion  which  has  existed  and  still  con- 
tinues to  exist  in  Lady  B.'s  mind. 

'We  whose  names  are  hereunto  subscribed  are  of 
opinion,  that  under  all  the  circumstances  above  stated, 
and  also  from  our  knowledge  of  what  has  passed 
respecting  the  conduct  of  all  parties  mentioned,  that 
the  line  now  adopted  by  Lady  B.  is  strictly  right 
and  honourable,  as  well  as  just  towards  Mrs.  L.,  and 
Lady  B.  ought  not,  whatever  may  hereafter  occur,  to 
be  prejudiced  thereby. 

'  RoBT.  John  Wilmot. 
F.  H.  Doyle. 
Stephen  Lushington. 
{Signed  by  each.) 

'  London, 

March  14,  18 16.' 

One  month  later,  on  April  14,  Byron  writes  a  letter 
to  his  wife,  who  was  staying  at  an  hotel  in  London,  in 
which  he  says  that  he  has  just  parted  from  Augusta : 

'Almost  the  last  being  you  had  left  me  to  part  with, 
and  the  only  unshattered  tie  of  my  existence.  ...  If 
any  accident  occurs  to  me — be  kind  to  her, — if  she  is 
then  nothing — to  her  children.  Some  time  ago  I  in- 
formed you  that,  with  the  knowledge  that  any  child  of 
ours  was  already  provided  for  by  other  and  better 
means,  I  had  made  m}^  will  in  favour  of  her  and  her 
children — as  prior  to  my  marriage  ;  this  was  not  done 
in  prejudice  to  you,  for  we  had  not  then  differed — and 
even  this  is  useless  during  your  life  by  the  settlements. 
I  say,  therefore,  be  kind  to  her  and  hers,  for  never  has 
she  acted  or  spoken  otherwise  towards  you.     She  has 

23—2 


356  'ASTARTE' 

ever  been  your  friend  ;  this  may  seem  valueless  to  one 
who  has  now  so  many.  Be  kind  to  her,  however,  and 
recollect  that,  though  it  may  be  an  advantage  to  you 
to  have  lost  your  husband,  it  is  sorrow  to  her  to  have 
the  waters  now,  or  the  earth  hereafter,  between  her 
and  her  brother.  She  is  gone.  I  need  hardly  add 
that  of  this  request  she  knows  nothing.' 

There  are  two  points  in  this  letter  which  deserve 
notice.  In  the  first  place  Byron  intimates  that  he  has 
made  a  will  in  favour  of  Augusta  and  her  children,  as 
prior  to  his  marriage.  This  would  insure  that  Medora 
would  be  amply  provided  for.  In  addition  to  this, 
Byron  had  already  given  his  sister  j^3,ooo  in  May, 
1814,  within  one  month  of  Medora's  birth.  In  reply  to 
her  scruples,  Byron  writes :  '  Consider  the  children, 
and  my  Georgina  in  particular — in  short,  I  need  say 
no  more.' 

In  the  second  place,  we  appeal  to  any  unprejudiced 
person  whether  it  is  likely  that  Byron  would  have 
made  to  his  wife  an  especial  appeal  on  behalf  of 
Augusta,  if  he  had  not  had  a  clear  conscience  as  to  his 
relations  with  her  ?  That  he  had  a  clear  conscience 
cannot  be  doubted,  and  Augusta  never  hesitated  in 
private  intercourse  with  Lady  Byron  to  speak  on  that 
painful  subject.     To  quote  Lord  Lovelace  : 

'  On  all  these  occasions,  one  subject,  uppermost  in 
the  thoughts  of  both,  had  been  virtually  ignored, 
except  that  Augusta  had  had  the  audacity  to  name  the 
reports  about  herself  "  with  the  pride  of  innocence,"  as 
it  is  called.' 

Augusta  tried  to  make  Lady  Byron  speak  out,  and 
say  that  she  did  not  believe  the  reports  against  her, 
but  in  vain.  Lady  Byron,  having  once  conceived  a 
notion  of  Augusta's  guilt,  would  not  change  her 
opinion,  and  was  far  too  honest  to  dissemble.     She 


fli 


MRS.  VILLIERS  AND  WILMOT  357 

found  refuge  in  flight,  not  daring  to  show  to  Augusta 
the  letters  which  had  been  abstracted  from  Byron's 
desk  by  Mrs.  Clermont.  In  vain  Mrs.  Villiers  and 
Wilmot  urged  Lady  Byron  to  avow  to  Augusta  the 
information  of  which  they  were  in  possession.  Lady 
Byron  would  not  produce  her  so-called  'proofs,'  and 
said  that  'she  would  experience  pain  in  throwing  off  a 
person  she  had  loved,  and  from  whom  she  had  re- 
ceived kindness.' 

But  Lady  Byron,  conscious  of  her  false  position,  had 
recourse  to  her  pen,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Augusta 
telling  her  all  that  she  knew.  We  are  told  that 
Augusta  did  not  attempt  to  deny  the  accusation,  and 
admitted  everything  in  her  letters  of  June,  July,  and 
August,  1 8 16. 

Lord  Lovelace  coolly  says  : 

'  It  is  unnecessary  to  produce  these  letters  here,  as 
their  contents  are  confirmed  and  made  sufficiently 
clear  by  the  correspondence  of  18 19,  given  in  another 
chapter.' 

We  are  further  told  in  a  footnote  (p.  155)  that  the 
late  Sir  Leslie  Stephen  said  it  made  him  quite  uncom- 
fortable to  read  Mrs.  Leigh's  letters  of  humiliation 
dated  18 16.  One  would  have  supposed,  after  such  a 
flourish  of  trumpets,  that  Lord  Lovelace  would  have 
produced  those  letters  !  He  does  nothing  of  the  kind, 
and  expects  posterity  to  accept  his  ex-partc  statements 
without  reserve.  Lord  Lovelace  bids  us  to  believe 
that  it  was  '  from  the  best  and  kindest  motives,  and 
long  habit  of  silence,  that  Dr.  Lushington's  influence 
was  exerted  in  1869,  to  prevent,  or  at  least  postpone, 
revelation.'  The  fact  is,  of  course,  he  kept  silence 
because  he  well  knew  that  there  was  nothing  in  those 
letters   (1813  and    1814)  to  fix  guilt  upon  Mrs.  Leigh. 


358  'ASTARTE' 

Lady  Byron  herself  has  told  us  that  '  the  causes  of  her 
suspicion  did  not  amount  to  proofs  and  Lady  Byron  did 
not  consider  herself  justified  in  acting  upon  these 
suspicions.'  She  further  states  that  '  the  possibility  of 
innocence  existed^  but  that 

'  Mrs.  Leigh,  at  times,  exhibited  signs  of  deep  remorse  ; 
at  least  so  Lady  Byron  interpreted  them  to  be,  though  she 
does  not  mean  to  aver  that  the  feelings  Mrs.  Leigh 
then  showed  were  signs  of  remorse  for  the  commission 
of  the  crime  alluded  to,  or  any  other  of  so  dark  a 
description.' 

But  Lady  Byron,  under  Lushington's  skilful  hand, 
protects  herself  against  the  possibility  of  legal  pro- 
ceedings for  defamation  of  character  by  these  words  : 

'  This  paper  does  not  contain,  nor  pretend  to  contain, 
any  of  the  grounds  which  give  rise  to  the  suspicion 
which  has  existed,  and  still  continues  to  exist,  in 
Lady  Byron's  mind.  Her  statement  is  made  in  order 
to  justify  Lady  Byron  .  .  .  in  case  Mrs.  Leigh  should 
be  proved  herccifter  to  be  guilty.^ 

As  this  statement  was  made  after  Lady  Byron's 
interview  with  Dr.  Lushington  (when  he  decided  to 
take  no  part  in  any  attempt  at  reconciliation),  it  is 
perfectly  clear  that  the  alleged  incriminating  letters 
were  not  considered  as  conclusive  evidence  against 
Mrs.  Leigh.  Although  they  were  sufficient  to  detach 
Lushington  from  the  party  of  reconciliation,  it  was 
not  considered  wise  to  produce  them  as  evidence  in 
1869,  at  a  time  when  a  strong  revulsion  of  feeling  had 
set  in  against  Lady  Byron. 

The  clear  legal  brain  of  Sir  Alexander  Cockburn, 
trained  to  appraise  evidence,  saw  through  the  flimsy 
pretext  which  had  deceived  an  equally  great  lawyer. 
Time  instructs  us,  and  much  has  come  to  light  in  this 


LADY  BYRON  FEARS  TO  LOSE  ADA  359 

so-called  '  Byron  mystery,'  since  Lady  Byron  beguiled 
Lushington.  Among  other  things,  we  now  know,  on 
Lord  Lovelace's  authority,  that  Lady  Byron  was  afraid 
that  her  child  would  be  taken  from  her  by  Byron,  and 
placed  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  Leigh.  We  also  know, 
on  the  authority  of  Hobhouse,*  that  Lady  Byron's 
representatives  distinctly  disavowed,  on  Lady  Byron's 
behalf,  having  spread  any  rumours  injurious  to  Lord 
Byron's  character  in  that  respect,  and  also  stated  that 
a  charge  of  incest  would  not  have  been  made  part  of 
her  allegations  if  she  had  come  into  court.  This  dis- 
avowal was  signed  by  Lady  Byron  herself,  and  was 
witnessed  by  Mr.  Wilmot.  It  is  certain  that  Lord 
Byron  would  have  gone  into  a  court  of  law  to  meet 
that  charge,  and  that  he  refused  to  agree  to  a  separa- 
tion until  that  assurance  had  been  given.  This  grave 
charge  was  still  in  abeyance  in  1816;  it  was  not  safe 
to  speak  of  it  until  after  Byron's  death,  and  then  only 
under  the  seal  of  secrecy. 

'  Upon  one  contingency  onl}^'  wrote  Sir  Francis 
Doyle  in  1830 — '  namely,  the  taking  from  Lady  Byron 
of  her  child,  and  placing  her  under  the  care  of  Mrs. 
Leigh — would  the  disclosure  have  been  made  of  Lady 
Byron's  grounds  for  suspecting  Mrs.  Leigh's  guilt.' 

It  was  evident  that  Lady  Byron  was  clutching  at 
straws  to  save  her  child  from  Mrs.  Leigh,  and  to 
prevent  this  it  was  essential  to  prove  Mrs.  Leigh's 
unworthiness.  In  her  maternal  anxiety  she  stuck  at 
nothing,  and  for  a  time  she  triumphed.  Her  private 
correspondence  was  drenched  with  the  theme  that 
had  impressed  Lushington  so  strongly. 

A    fortnight    after    signing    her   *  statement,'   Lady 

*  '  Recollections  of  a  Long  Life,'  vol.  ii.,  p.  303. 


36o  'ASTARTE' 

Byron  writes  to  Mrs.  George  Lamb,  in  reference  to 
Mrs.  Leigh  : 

'  I  am  glad  tliat  you  think  of  her  with  the  feelings  of 
pity  which  prevail  in  my  mind,  and  surely  if  in  mine 
there  must  be  some  cause  for  them.  I  never  was,  nor 
ever  can  be,  so  mercilessly  virtuous  as  to  admit  no 
excuse  for  even  the  worst  of  errors.' 

Such  letters  go  perilously  near  that  charge  which 
Lady  Byron's  representatives  had  repudiated  in  the 
presence  of  Hobhouse.  But  Lady  Byron  was  desperate, 
and  her  whole  case  depended  on  a  general  belief  in  that 
foul  accusation.  What  could  not  be  done  openly  could 
be  done  secretly,  and  she  poisoned  the  air  to  save  her 
child. 

Colonel  Doyle,  who  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the 
few  on  Lady  Byron's  side  who  kept  his  head,  wrote  to 
her  on  July  9,  1816: 

'  I  see  the  possibility  of  a  contingency  under  which 
the  fullest  explanation  of  the  motives  and  grounds  of 
your  conduct  may  be  necessary;  I  therefore  implore 
of  you  to  suffer  no  delicacy  to  interfere  with  your 
endeavouring  to  obtain  the  fullest  admission  01  the 
fact.  If  you  obtain  an  acknowledgment  of  the  facts 
and  that  your  motives  be,  as  you  seem  to  think, 
properly  appreciated,  I  think  on  the  whole  we  shall 
nave  reason  to  rejoice  that  you  have  acted  as  you  have 
done,  but  I  shall  be  very  anxious  to  have  a  more  detailed 
knowledge  of  what  has  passed,  and  particularly  of  the 
state  in  which  you  leave  it.  The  step  you  have  taken 
was  attended  with  great  risk,  and  1  could  not,  con- 
templating the  danger  to  which  it  might  have  exposed 
you,  have  originally  advised  it. 

'  If,  however,  your  correspondence  has  produced  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  fact  even  previous  to  your 
marriage,  I  shall  be  most  happy  tnat  it  has  taken 
place.' 

Colonel  Doyle,  by  no  means  easy  in  his  own  mind, 
again  writes  to  Lady  Byron  on  July  18,  1816: 


ATTEMPT  TO  INVEIGLE  AUGUSTA    361 

*  I  must  recommend  you  to  act  as  if  a  time  might 
possibl}''  arise  when  it  would  be  necessary  for  you  to 
justify  yourself,  though  nothing  short  of  an  absolute 
necessity  so  imperative  as  to  be  irresistible  could  ever 
authorize  your  advertence  to  your  present  communi- 
cations. Still,  I  cannot  dismiss  from  my  mind  the 
experience  we  have  had,  nor  so  far  forget  the  very 
serious  embarrassment  we  were  under  from  the  effects 
of  your  too  confiding  disposition,  as  not  to  implore 
you  to  bear  in  mind  the  importance  of  securing  your- 
self from  eventual  danger. 

'This  is  my  first  object,  and  if  that  be  attained,  I  shall 
approve  and  applaud  all  the  kindness  you  can  show 
[to  Mrs.  Leigh].' 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  picture  of  the  state  of  affairs 
limned  by  a  man  who  was  an  accomplice  of  Lady 
Byron's,  and  who  was  fully  awake  to  the  danger  of 
their  position  in  the  event  of  Byron  turning  round 
upon  them.  The  husband  might  insist  upon  Lady 
Byron  explaining  the  grounds  of  her  conduct.  In 
order  to  make  their  position  secure,  it  would  be,  above 
all  things,  necessary  to  obtain  a  full  confession  from 
Mrs.  Leigh  of  her  criminal  intercourse  with  Byron. 
With  this  end  in  view,  Lady  Byron  opened  a  corre- 
spondence with  Augusta  Leigh,  and  tried  to  inveigle 
her  into  making  an  admission  of  her  guilt.  It  was 
not  an  easy  matter  to  open  the  subject,  but  Lady 
Byron  was  not  abashed,  and,  under  cover  of  sundry 
acts  of  kindness,  tried  hard  to  gain  her  point.  In  this 
game  of  foils  Augusta  showed  remarkable  skill,  and 
seems  to  have  eventually  fooled  Lady  Byron  to  the 
top  of  her  bent.  No  wonder,  then,  that  Mrs.  Leigh, 
accused  of  an  abominable  crime  by  her  sister-in-law, 
should  have  written  to  a  friend  : 

*  None  can  know  how  nmch  I  have  suffered  from  this 
unhappy  business — and,  indeed,  I  have  never  known 
a  moment's  peace,  and  begin  to  despair  for  the  future.' 


362  •  ASTARTE ' 

Lady  Byron  and  her  friends  plied  Mrs.  Leigh 
with  questions,  hoping  to  gain  a  confession  which 
would  justify  their  conduct.  Lady  Noel  strongly  and 
repeatedly  warned  Lady  Byron  against  Mrs.  Leigh, 
who,  like  a  wounded  animal,  was  dangerous.  '  Take 
care  of  Augusta,'  she  wrote  September  7,  1816.  '  If  I 
know  anything  of  human  nature,  she  docs  and  must 
hateyou.^ 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Augusta,  while  pretending  con- 
trition for  imaginary  sins,  revenged  herself  upon  Lady 
Byron  by  heightening  her  jealousy,  and  encouraging 
her  in  the  belief  that  Byron  had  not  only  been  her 
lover,  but  was  still  appealing  to  her  from  abroad.  She 
even  went  so  far  as  to  pretend  that  she  was  going  to 
join  him,  which  nearly  frightened  Mrs.  Villiers  out 
of  her  wits.  They  lied  to  Augusta  profusely,  these 
immaculate  people,  and  had  the  meanness  to  tell  her 
that  Byron  had  betrayed  her  in  writing  to  two  or 
three  women.  They  probably  wished  to  cause  a 
breach  between  brother  and  sister,  but  Augusta,  who 
pretended  to  be  alarmed  by  this  intelligence,  laughed 
in  her  sleeve.  She  knew  the  truth,  and  saw  through 
these  manoeuvres ;  it  was  part  of  her  plan  to  keep 
Lady  Byron  on  a  false  scent.  '  I  cannot  believe  my 
brother  to  have  been  so  dishonourable,'  was  her  meek 
rejoinder,  meaning,  of  course,  that  it  would  have  been 
dishonourable  for  Byron  to  have  defamed  one  who, 
having  taken  his  child  under  her  protection,  had  saved 
the  honour  of  the  woman  whom  he  loved.  But  Lady 
Byron  regarded  Mrs.  Leigh's  answer  as  an  admission 
of  guilt,  and  trumpeted  the  news  to  all  her  friends. 
Lord  Lovelace  tells  us  that  Augusta,  on  August  5, 
1816,  wrote  to  Lady  Byron  a  letter,  in  which  she 
asserted  most  solemnly  that  Byron  had  not  been  her 


'A  MOST  WRETCHED  BUSINESS'      363 

friend,  and  that,  though  there  were  difficulties  in 
writing  to  him,  she  was  determined  never  to  see  him 
again  in  the  way  she  had  done.  It  is  remarkable  that 
the  letter  to  which  Lord  Lovelace  refers  is  not  given 
in  '  Astarte,'  where  one  would  naturally  expect  to  find 
it.  In  order  to  gauge  the  impression  made  upon 
Augusta's  mind,  the  reader  will  do  well  to  consult  the 
letters  which  she  wrote  a  little  later  to  the  Rev. 
Francis  Hodgson,  in  which  she  speaks  of  Byron  with 
the  greatest  affection. 

'And  now  for  our  old  subject,  dear  B.  I  wonder 
whether  you  have  heard  from  him  ?  The  last  to  me 
was  from  Geneva,  sending  me  a  short  but  most  inter- 
esting journal  of  an  excursion  to  the  Bernese  Alps. 
He  speaks  of  his  health  as  very  good,  but,  alas  !  his 
spirits  appear  wofuUy  the  contrary.  I  believe,  how- 
ever, that  he  does  not  write  in  that  strain  to  others. 
Sometimes  I  venture  to  indulge  a  hope  that  what  I 
wish  most  earnestly  for  him  may  be  working  its  way 
in  his  mind.     Heaven  grant  it !' 

In  another  letter  to  Hodgson  she  speaks  of  Ada,  and 
says  : 

'  The  bulletins  of  the  poor  child's  health,  by  Byron's 
desire,  pass  through  me,  and  I'm  very  sorry  for  it,  and 
that  I  ever  had  any  concern  in  this  most  wretched 
business.  I  can't,  however,  explain  all  my  reasons  at 
this  distance,  and  must  console  myself  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  my  duty,  and,  to  the  best  of 
my  judgment,  all  I  could  for  the  happiness  oi  both' 

At  a  time  when  Byron  was  accused  of  having  'be- 
trayed his  sister  in  writing  to  two  or  three  women,' 
he  was  writing  that  well-known  stanza  in  '  Childe 
Harold ' : 

'  But  there  was  one  soft  breast,  as  hath  been  said, 
Which  unto  his  was  bound  by  stronger  ties 
Than  the  Church  links  withal;  and  though  unwed, 
Yet  it  was  pure — and,  far  above  disguise, 


364  '  ASTARTE ' 

Had  stood  the  test  of  mortal  enmities 
Still  undivided,  and  cemented  more 
By  peril,  dreaded  most  in  female  eyes ; 
But  this  was  firm,  and  from  a  foreign  shore 
Well  to  that  heart  might  his  these  absent  greetings  pour.' 

And  it  was  in  July,  18 16,  that  Augusta's  loyalty  to  him 
and  to  Mary  Chaworth  moved  Byron  to  write  his 
celebrated  *  Stanzas  to  Augusta ' : 

'  Though  ihy  soul  with  my  grief  was  acquainted, 

It  shrunk  not  to  share  it  with  me. 
And  the  Love  which  my  spirit  hath  painted 
It  never  hath  found  but  in  Thee.' 

'  Though  human,  thou  didst  not  betray  me ; 
Though  tempted,  thou  never  couldst  shake.' 

Lord  Lovelace  claims  to  have  found  the  key  ot  the 
Byron  mystery  in  '  Manfred,'  and  employs  it  as  a 
damning  proof  against  Augusta,  with  what  justice  we 
have  seen. 

At  the  time  when  '  Manfred '  was  begun  Mary 
Chaworth  was  temporarily  insane.  The  anxiety  which 
she  had  undergone  at  the  time  of  Byron's  matrimonial 
quarrels,  when  she  feared  that  a  public  inquiry  might 
disclose  her  own  secret,  affected  her  health.  She  bore 
up  bravely  until  after  Byron's  departure  from  England  ; 
then,  the  strain  relieved,  her  mind  gave  way,  and  she 
lived  for  some  time  in  London,  under  the  care  of  a 
doctor.  Her  illness  was  kept  as  secret  as  possible, 
but  Augusta,  who  was  constantly  at  her  side,  in- 
formed Byron  of  her  condition. 


CHAPTER  IV 

There  has  of  late  years  been  a  disposition  on  the  part 
of  Byron's  biographers  unduly  to  disparage  Moore's 
'Life  of  Byron.'  Tastes  have  changed,  and  Moore's 
patronizing  style  of  reference  to  '  his  noble  friend  the 
noble  poet '  does  not  appeal  to  the  democratic  senti- 
ment now  prevailing.  But,  after  allowance  has  been 
made  for  Moore's  manner,  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  in 
consequence  of  his  personal  intimacy  with  Byron,  his 
work  must  always  have  a  peculiar  value  and  authority. 
There  are,  for  instance,  portions  of  Moore's  '  Life ' 
which  are  indispensable  to  those  who  seek  to  fathom 
the  depths  of  Byron's  mind.  Moore  says  that  Byron 
was  born  with  strong  affections  and  ardent  passions, 
and  that  his  life  was 

'  one  continued  struggle  between  that  instinct  of  genius, 
which  was  for  ever  drawing  him  back  into  the  lonely 
laboratory  of  self,  and  those  impulses  of  passion, 
ambition,  and  vanity,  which  again  hurried  him  off  into 
the  crowd,  and  entangled  him  in  its  interests.' 

Moore  assures  us  that  most  of  Byron's  so-called 
love-affairs  were  as  transitory  as  the  imaginings  that 
gave  them  birth. 

*  It  may  be  questioned,'  says  Moore,  'whether  his 
heart  had  ever  much  share  in  such  passions.  Actual 
objects  there  were,  in  but  too  great  number,  who,  as 

365 


366  '  ASTARTE ' 

long  as  the  illusion  continued,  kindled  up  his  thoughts 
and  were  the  themes  of  his  song.  But  theywere  little 
more  than  mere  dreams  of  the  hour.  There  zvas  but 
one  love  that  lived  unquenched  through  air — Byron's  love 
for  Mary  Chaworth. 

Every  other  attachment  faded  away,  but  that  endured 
to  the  end  of  his  stormy  life. 

In  speaking  of  Byron's  affection  for  his  sister,  Moore, 
who  knew  all  that  had  been  said  against  Augusta 
Leigh  and  Byron,  and  had  read  the  *  Memoirs,'  re- 
marked : 

*  In  a  mind  sensitive  and  versatile  as  [Byron's],  long 
habits  of  family  intercourse  might  have  estranged,  or 
at  least  dulled,  his  natural  affection  for  his  sister  ;  but 
their  separation  during  youth  left  this  feeling  fresh 
and  untired.  That  he  was  himself  fully  aware  of  this 
appears  from  a  passage  in  one  of  his  letters  :  "  My 
sister  is  in  Town,  which  is  a  great  comfort ;  for,  never 
having  been  much  together,  we  are  naturally  more 
attached  to  each  other."  His  very  inexperience  in 
such  ties  made  the  smile  of  a  sister  no  less  a  novelty 
than  a  charm  to  him  ;  and  before  the  first  gloss  of  this 
newly  awakened  sentiment  had  time  to  wear  off,  they 
were  again  separated,  and  for  ever.' 

When  the  parting  came  it  was  bitter  indeed,  for  she 
was,  says  Moore, 

'almost  the  only  person  from  whom  he  then  parted 
with  regret.  Those  beautiful  and  tender  verses, 
"  Though  the  day  of  my  destiny's  over,"  were  now  his 
parting  tribute  to  her  who,  through  all  this  bitter  trial, 
had  been  his  sole  consolation.' 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  what  kind  of  woman 
Augusta  was,  and  it  is  difficult  to  understand  by  what 
process  of  reasoning  Lord  Lovelace  persuaded  himself 
that  she  could  have  been  guilty  of  the  atrocious  crime 
which   he   lays   to   her   charge.     We  entirely  concur 


AUGUSTA  THE  VICTIM  OF  A  PLOT    367 

with  Mrs.  Villiers,  when  she  wrote  to  Augusta  Leigh 
(in  September,  1816):  'I  consider  you  the  victim  to 
the  most  infernal  plot  that  has  ever  entered  the  heart 
of  man  to  conceive,' 

We  must  at  the  same  time  frankly  admit  that 
Augusta,  in  order  to  screen  Mary  Chaworth,  did  all 
she  could  do  to  keep  Lady  Byron  under  a  false  im- 
pression. She  seems  to  have  felt  so  secure  in  the 
knowledge  of  her  own  innocence  that  she  might  afford 
to  allow  Lady  Byron  to  think  as  ill  of  her  as  she 
pleased. 

Unfortunately,  Augusta,  having  once  entered  upon 
a  course  of  duplicity,  was  obliged  to  keep  it  up  by 
equivocations  of  all  kinds.  She  went  so  far  as  even 
to  show  portions  of  letters  addressed  to  her  care,  and 
pretended  that  they  had  been  written  to  herself.  She 
seems  to  have  felt  no  compunction  for  the  sufferings 
of  Lady  Byron.  She  may  even  have  exulted  in  the 
pain  she  inflicted  upon  that  credulous  lady,  having 
herself  suffered  intensely  through  the  false  suspicions, 
and  the  studied  insults  heaped  upon  her  by  many  of 
Lady  Byron's  adherents. 

Byron,  who  was  informed  of  what  had  been  said 
against  his  sister  by  Lady  Byron  and  others,  told  the 
world  in  *  Marino  Faliero  '  that  he  *  had  only  one  fount 
of  quiet  left,  and  that  they  poisoned.'  But  he  was 
powerless  to  interfere. 

Writing  to  Moore  (September  19,  18 18)  he  said  : 

'  I  could  have  forgiven  the  dagger  or  the  bowl — any- 
thing but  the  deliberate  desolation  piled  upon  me, 
when  I  stood  alone  upon  my  hearth,  with  my  house- 
hold gods  shivered  around  me.  Do  you  suppose  I 
have  forgotten  it  ?  It  has,  comparatively,  swallowed 
up  in  me  every  other  feeling,  and  I  am  only  a  spectator 
upon  earth  till  a  tenfold  opportunity  offers.' 


368  '  ASTARTE ' 

It  may  be  that  Augusta  avenged  her  brother  tenfold 
without  his  knowledge.  But  she  suffered  in  the  pro- 
cess. Lord  Lovelace  lays  great  stress  upon  what  he 
calls  *  the  correspondence  of  1819/  in  order  to  show  us 
that  Augusta  had  confessed  to  the  crime  of  incest. 
That  correspondence  is  very  interesting,  not  as  show- 
ing the  guilt  of  Augusta  Leigh,  but  as  an  example  of 
feminine  duplicity  in  which  she  was  an  adept.  Augusta 
was  hard  pressed  indeed  for  some  weapon  of  offence 
when  she  pretended,  on  June  25,  1819,  that  she  had 
received  the  following  letter  from  her  brother.  She 
must  have  been  some  time  in  making  up  her  mind  to 
send  it,  as  the  letter  in  question  had  been  in  her  hands 
three  weeks,  having  arrived  in  London  on  June  4.  It 
may  be  as  well  to  state  that  all  letters  written  by 
Byron  to  Mary  Chaworth  passed  through  Mrs.  Leigh's 
hands,  and  were  delivered  with  circumspection. 


'Venice, 

'May  17,  1819.* 

'  My  dearest  Love, 

*  I  have  been  negligent  in  not  writing,  but  what 
can  I  say?  Three  years'  absence — and  the  total  change 
of  scene  and  habit  make  such  a  difference  that  we 
have  never  nothing  in  common  but  our  affections  and 
our  relationship.  But  I  have  never  ceased  nor  can 
cease  to  feel  for  a  moment  that  perfect  and  boundless 
attachment  which  bound  and  binds  me  to  you — which 
renders  me  utterly  incapable  of  real  love  for  any  other 
human  being — for  what  could  they  be  to  me  after  you  ? 
My  own  .  .  .f  we  may  have  been  very  wrong — but  I 
repent  of  nothing  except  that  cursed  marriage — and 
your  refusing  to  continue  to  love  me  as  you  had  loved 
me.  I  can  neither  forget  nor  quite  forgive  you  for  that 
precious  piece  of  reformation,  but  I  can  never  be  other 
than  I  have  been — and  whenever  I  love  anything  it  is 


*  A  fortnight  before  writing  '  Stanzas  to  the  Po.' 

+  '  Short  name  of  three  or  four  letters  obliterated.' — '  Astarte,'  p.  180. 


A  LETTER  TO  'THYRZA'  369 

because  it  reminds  me  in  some  way  or  other  of  your- 
self. For  instance,  I  not  long  ago  attached  myself  to 
a  Venetian  for  no  earthly  reason  (although  a  pretty 
woman)  but  because  she  was  called  .  .  .*  and  she  often 
remarked  (without  knowing  the  reason)  how  fond  I 
was  of  the  name.f  It  is  heart-breaking  to  think  of  our 
long  separation — and  I  am  sure  more  than  punishment 
enough  for  all  our  sins.  Dante  is  more  humane  in  his 
"  Hell,"  for  he  places  his  unfortunate  lovers — Fran- 
cesca  of  Rimini  and  Paolo — whose  case  fell  a  good 
deal  short  of  ours,  though  sufficiently  naughty)  in  com- 

fany ;  and  though  they  suffer,  it  is  at  least  together, 
f  ever  I  return  to  England  it  will  be  to  see  you ;  and 
recollect  that  in  all  time,  and  place,  and  feelings,   I 
have   never  ceased  to  be  the  same  to  you  in  heart. 
Circumstances    may    have    ruffled    my   manner    and 
hardened  my  spirit ;  you  may  have  seen  me  harsh  and 
exasperated  with  all  things  around  me ;  grieved  and 
tortured  with  your  new  resolution,  and  the  soon  after 
persecution  of  that  infamous  fiend  t  who  drove  me  from 
my  country,  and   conspired   against  my  life — by  en- 
deavouring to  deprive  me  of  all  that  could  render  it 
precious  § — but  remember  that  even  then  you  were  the 
sole  object  that  cost  me  a  tear ;  and  what  tears  !     Do 
you  remember  our  parting  ?     I  have  not  spirits  now 
to  write  to  you  upon  other  subjects.     I  am  well  in 
health,  and  have  no  cause  of  grief  but  the  reflection 
that  we  are  not  together.     When  you  write  to  me 
speak  to  me  of  yourself,  and  say  that  you  love  me  ; 
never  mind  common-place   people  and  topics  which 
can  be  in  no  degree  interesting  to  me  who  see  nothing 
in  England  but  the  country  which  holds  you,  or  around 
it  but  the  sea  which  divides  us.     They  say  absence 
destroys   weak   passions,  and   confirms   strong  ones. 
Alas  !  mine  for  you  is  the  union  of  all  passions  and  of  all 
affections — has  strengthened   itself,  but  will  destroy 
me  ;  I  do  not  speak  of  physical  destruction,  for  I  have 
endured,  and  can  endure,  much  ;  but  the  annihilation 
of  all   thoughts,  feelings,  or  hopes,  which   have   not 

*  Short  name  of  three  or  four  letters  obliterated. 

+  Marianna  (AngUce :  Mary  Anne). 
\  Lady  Byron  (see  '  Astarte,'  p.  i66). 
§  His  sister's  society. 

24 


370  '  ASTARTE ' 

more  or  less  a  reference,  to  you   and   to  our  recol- 
lections. 

*  Ever,  dearest,' 

[Signature  erased]. 

The  terms  of  this  letter,  which  Lord  Lovelace  pro- 
duces as  conclusive  evidence  against  Augusta  Leigh, 
deserve  attention.  At  first  sight  they  seem  to  confirm 
Lady  Byron's  belief  that  a  criminal  intercourse  had 
existed  between  her  husband  and  his  sister.  But 
close  examination  shows  that  the  letter  was  not 
written  to  Mrs.  Leigh  at  all,  but  to  Mary  Chaworth. 

On  the  day  it  was  written  Byron  was  at  Venice, 
where  he  had  recently  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Countess  Guiccioli,  whom,  as  *  Lady  of  the  land,'  he 
followed  to  Ravenna  a  fortnight  later.  It  will  be 
noticed  that  the  date  synchronizes  with  the  period 
when  the  '  Stanzas  to  the  Po '  were  written.  Both 
letter  and  poem  dwell  upon  the  memory  of  an  unsatis- 
fied passion.  The  letter  bears  neither  superscription 
nor  signature,  both  having  been  erased  by  Mrs. 
Leigh  before  the  document  reached  Lady  Byron's 
hands.  The  writer  excuses  himself  for  not  having 
written  to  his  correspondent  {a)  because  three  years' 
absence,  {b)  total  change  of  scene,  and  (c)  because  there 
is  nothing  in  common  between  them,  except  mutual 
affections  and  their  relationship.  Byron  could  not 
have  excused  himself  in  that  manner  to  a  sister,  who 
had  much  in  common  with  him,  and  to  whom  he  had 
written,  on  an  average,  twice  in  every  month  since  he 
left  England.  His  letters  to  Augusta  entered  minutely 
into  all  his  feelings  and  actions,  and  the  common  bond 
between  them  was  Ada,  whose  disposition,  appear- 
ance, and  health,  occupied  a  considerable  space  in  their 
correspondence. 


MARIANNA  371 

Nor  would  Byron  have  written  in  that  amatory 
strain  to  his  dear  '  Goose,'  In  the  letter  which  pre- 
ceded the  one  we  have  quoted,  Byron  begins,  '  Dearest 
Augusta,'  and  ends,  *  I  am  in  health,  and  yours,  B.'  In 
that  which  followed  it  there  is  nothing  in  the  least 
effusive.  It  begins,  *  Dearest  Augusta,'  and  ends, 
'  Yours  ever,  and  very  truly,  B.'  There  are  not  many 
of  Byron's  letters  to  Augusta  extant.  All  those 
which  mentioned  Medora  were  either  mutilated  or 
suppressed. 

For  Byron  to  have  given  '  three  years'  absence,  and 
a  total  change  of  scene,'  as  reasons  for  not  having 
written  to  his  sister  for  a  month  or  so  would  have 
been  absurd.  But  when  he  said  that  he  had  nothing 
in  common  with  Mary  Chaworth,  except  'our  affec- 
tions and  our  relationship,'  his  meaning  was — their 
mutual  affections,  their  kinship,  and  their  common 
relationship  to  Medora. 

We  invite  any  unprejudiced  person  to  say  whether 
Byron  would  have  been  likely  to  write  to  a  sister,  who 
knew  his  mind  thoroughly,  *  I  have  never  ceased — 
nor  can  cease  to  feel  for  a  moment  that  perfect  and 
boundless  attachment  which  bound  and  binds  me  to 
you.'  Did  not  Augusta  know  very  well  that  he  loved  and 
admired  her,  and  that  Byron  was  under  the  strongest 
obligations  to  her  for  her  loyalty  at  a  trying  time  ? 

Then,  there  was  the  erasure  of  *  a  short  name  of 
three  or  four  letters,'  which  might  have  opened  Lady 
Byron's  eyes  to  the  trick  that  was  being  played  upon 
her.  Those  four  letters  spelt  the  name  of  Mary,  and 
the  '  pretty  woman '  to  whom  Byron  had  '  not  long 
ago'  attached  himself  was  the  Venetian  Marianna 
(Anglice :  Mary  Anne)  Segati,  with  whom  he  formed 
a   liaison   from    November,   18 16,   to   February    1818. 

24 — 2 


372  '  ASTARTE ' 

Augusta  would   certainly   not    have  understood   the 
allusion. 

In  this  illuminating  letter  Byron  reproaches  Mary 
Chaworth  for  breaking  off  her  fatal  intimacy  with  him, 
and  for  having  persuaded  him  to  marry — 'that  in- 
famous fiend  who  drove  me  from  my  country,  and 
conspired  against  my  life — by  endeavouring  to  deprive 
me  of  all  that  could  render  it  precious.'  As  the  person 
here  referred  to  was,  obviously,  Augusta  herself,  this 
remark  could  not  have  been  made  to  her.  In  speaking 
of  their  long  separation  as  a  punishment  for  their  sins, 
he  tells  Mary  Chaworth  that,  if  he  ever  returns  to 
England,  it  will  be  to  see  her,  and  that  his  feelings 
have  undergone  no  change.  It  will  be  observed  that 
Byron  begs  his  correspondent  to  speak  to  him  only  of 
herself  and  to  say  that  she  loves  him  !  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  Augusta  was  the 
intermediary  between  Byron  and  his  wife — his  confi- 
dential agent  in  purely  private  affairs.  It  was  to  her 
that  he  wrote  on  all  matters  relating  to  business  trans- 
actions with  his  wife,  and  from  whom  he  received 
intelligence  of  the  health  and  happiness  of  his  daughter. 
Under  those  circumstances  how  could  Byron  ask 
Augusta  to  speak  to  him  of  nothing  but  her  love 
for  him  ? 

To  show  the  absurdity  of  Lord  Lovelace's  conten- 
tion, we  insert  the  letter  which  Byron  wrote  to  his 
sister  seven  months  later.  Many  letters  had  passed 
between  them  during  the  interval,  but  we  have  not 
been  allowed  to  see  them ; 

'  Bologna, 

'  December  23,  1819. 
'  Dearest  Augusta, 

'The  health  of  my  daughter  Allegra,  the  cold 
season,  and  the  length  of  the  journey,  induce  me  to 


A  LOCK  OF  HAIR  373 

postpone  for  some  time  a  purpose  (never  very  willing 
on  my  part)  to  revisit  Great  Britain. 

*  You  can  address  to  me  at  Venice  as  usual.  Wher- 
ever I  may  be  in  Italy,  the  letter  will  be  forwarded. 
I  enclose  to  you  all  that  long  hair  on  account  of 
which  you  would  not  go  to  see  my  picture.  You 
will  see  that  it  was  not  so  very  long.  I  curtailed  it 
yesterday,  my  head  and  hair  being  weakly  after  my 
tertian. 

'  I  wrote  to  you  not  very  long  ago,  and,  as  I  do  not 
know  that  I  could  add  anything  satisfactory  to  that 
letter,  I  may  as  well  finish  this.  In  a  letter  to  Murray 
I  requested  him  to  apprise  you  that  my  journey 
was  postponed;  but  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
know  me 

*  Yours  ever  and  very  truly, 

•b; 

It  is  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  these  two  letters 
were  addressed  to  the  same  person.  In  the  one  we 
find  the  expression  of  an  imperishable  attachment,  in 
the  other  merely  commonplace  statements.  In  the 
first  letter  Byron  says,  if  ever  he  returns  to  England, 
it  will  be  to  see  the  person  to  whom  he  is  writing, 
and  that  absence  has  the  more  deeply  confirmed  his 
passion.  In  the  second  he  tells  the  lady  that  he  has 
had  his  hair  cut,  and  that  he  was  never  very  willing 
to  revisit  Great  Britain!  And  yet,  in  spite  of  these 
inconsistencies,  Lady  Byron  walked  into  the  snare 
which  Augusta  had  so  artfully  prepared.  In  forward- 
ing the  amatory  epistle  to  Lady  Byron,  Augusta  tells 
her  to  burn  it,  and  says  that  her  brother  'must  surely 
be  considered  a  maniac'  for  having  written  it,  adding, 
with  adroit  mystification  : 

*/  do  not  believe  any  feelings  expressed  are  by 
any  means  permanent — only  occasioned  by  the  pass- 
ing and  present  reflection  and  occupation  of  writing 
to  the  unfortunate  Being  to  whom  they  are  addressed! 


374  '  ASTARTE ' 

Augusta  did  not  tell  Lady  Byron  that  '  the  un- 
fortunate Being '  was  Mary  Chaworth,  now  reconciled 
to  her  husband,  and  that  she  had  withheld  Byron's 
letter  from  her,  lest  her  mind  should  be  unsettled  by 
its  perusal. 

Mrs.  Leigh  had  two  excellent  reasons  for  this  be- 
trayal of  trust.  In  the  first  place,  she  wished  Lady 
Byron  to  believe  that  her  brother  was  still  making 
love  to  her,  and  that  she  was  keeping  her  promise  in 
not  encouraging  his  advances.  In  the  second  place, 
she  knew  that  the  terms  of  Byron's  letter  would 
deeply  wound  Lady  Byron's  pride — and  revenge  is 
sometimes  sweet ! 

Lady  Byron,  who  was  no  match  for  her  sister-in- 
law,  had  failed  to  realize  the  wisdom  of  her  mother's 
warning  :  *  Beware  of  Augusta,  for  she  must  hate  you.' 
She  received  this  proof  of  Augusta's  return  to  virtue 
with  gratitude,  thanked  her  sincerely,  and  acknow- 
ledged that  the  terms  of  Byron's  letter  *  afforded  ample 
testimony  that  she  had  not  encouraged  his  tenderness.' 
Poor  Lady  Byron  1  She  deserves  the  pity  of  posterity. 
But  she  was  possessed  of  common  sense,  and  knew 
how  to  play  her  own  hand  fairly  well.  She  wrote  to 
Augusta  in  the  following  terms  : 

'  This  letter  is  a  proof  of  the  prior  "  reformation," 
which  was  sufficiently  evidenced  to  me  by  your  own 
assertion,  and  the  agreement  of  circumstances  with  it. 
But,  in  case  of  a  more  unequivocal  disclosure  on  his  part 
than  has  yet  been  made,  this  letter  would  confute  those 
false  accusations  to  which  you  would  undoubtedly  be 
subjected  from  others.' 

In  suggesting  a  more  open  disclosure  on  Byron's 
part,  Lady  Byron  angled  for  further  confidences,  so 
that  her  evidence  against  her  husband  might  be  over- 


LADY  BYRON  ADVISES  AUGUSTA     375 

whelming.  She  hoped  that  his  repentant  sister  might 
be  able  to  show  incriminating  letters,  which  would 
support  the  clue  found  in  those  missives  which  Mrs. 
Clermont  had  '  conveyed.'  How  little  did  she  under- 
stand Augusta  Leigh  !  Never  would  she  have  assisted 
Lady  Byron  to  prejudice  the  world  against  her  brother, 
nor  would  she  have  furnished  Lady  Byron  with  a 
weapon  which  might  at  any  moment  have  been  turned 
against  herself. 

With  the  object  of  proving  Augusta's  guilt,  the 
whole  correspondence  between  her  and  Lady  Byron 
from  June  27, 18 19,  to  the  end  of  the  following  January 
has  been  printed  in  '  Astarte.' 

We  have  carefully  examined  it  without  finding  any- 
thing that  could  convict  Augusta  and  Byron.  It  seems 
clear  that  Mrs.  Leigh  began  this  correspondence  with 
an  ulterior  object  in  view.  She  wished  to  win  back 
Lady  Byron's  confidence,  and  to  induce  her  to  make 
some  arrangement  by  which  the  Leigh  children  would 
benefit  at  Lady  Byron's  death,  in  the  event  of  Byron 
altering  the  will  he  had  already  made  in  their  favour. 
She  began  by  asking  Lady  Byron's  advice  as  to  how 
she  was  to  answer  the  *  Dearest  Love '  letter.  Lady 
Byron  gave  her  two  alternatives.  Either  she  must 
tell  her  brother  that,  so  long  as  his  idea  of  her  was 
associated  with  the  most  guilty  feelings,  it  was  her 
duty  to  break  off  all  communication ;  or,  if  Augusta 
did  not  approve  of  that  plan,  then  it  was  her  duty  to 
treat  Byron's  letter  with  the  silence  of  contempt.  To 
this  excellent  advice  Augusta  humbly  replied  that,  if 
she  were  to  reprove  her  brother  for  the  warmth  of  his 
letter,  he  might  be  mortally  offended,  in  which  case 
her  children,  otherwise  unprovided  for,  would  fare 
badly.     But  Mrs.  Leigh  was  too  diplomatic  to  convey 


376  '  ASTARTE ' 

that  meaning  in   plain  language.      Writing  June  28, 
1819,  she  says  : 

'  I  will  tell  you  what  nozv  passes  in  my  mind.  As  to 
the  gentler  expedient  you  propose,  I  certainly  lean  to 
it,  as  the  least  offensive  ;  but,  supposing  he  suspects 
the  motive,  and  is  piqued  to  answer :  *'  I  wrote  you 
such  a  letter  of  such  a  date :  did  you  receive  it  ?" 
What  then  is  to  be  done  ?  I  could  not  reply  falsely — 
and  might  not  that  line  of  conduct,  acknowledged, 
irritate  ?  This  consideration  would  lead  me,  perhaps 
preferably,  to  adopt  the  other,  as  most  open  and  honest 
(certainly  to  any  other  character  but  his),  but  query 
whether  it  might  not  be  most  judicious  as  to  its  effects  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  acknowledging  that  his  victim 
was  wholly  in  his  power,  as  to  temporal  good,*  and 
leaving  it  to  his  generosity  whether  to  use  that  power 
or  not.  There  seem  so  many  reasons  why  he  should 
for  his  own  sake  dihstdiXn  for  the  present  horn  gratifying 
his  revenge,  that  one  can  scarcely  think  he  would  do 
so — unless  insane.  It  would  surely  be  ruin  to  all  his 
prospects,  and  those  of  a  pecuniary  nature  are  not 
indifferent  if  others  are  become  so. 

'  If  really  and  truly  he  feels,  or  fancies  he  feels,  that 
passion  he  professes,  I  have  constantly  imagined  he 
might  suppose,  from  his  experience  of  the  weakness  of 
disposition  of  the  unfortunate  object,  that,  driven  from 
every  other  hope  or  earthly  prospect,  she  might  fly  to 
him!  and  that  as  long  as  he  was  impressed  with  that 
idea  he  would  persevere  in  his  projects.  But,  if  he 
considered  that  hopeless,  he  might  desist,  for  otherwise 
he  must  lose  everything  but  his  revenge^  and  what 
good  would  that  do  him  ? 

'  After  all,  my  dearest  A.,  if  you  cannot  calculate  the 
probable  consequences,  how  should  I  presume  to  do 
so  !  To  be  sure,  the  gentler  expedient  might  be  the 
safest,  with  so  violent  and  irritable  a  disposition,  and 
at  least  for  a  time  act  as  a  palliative — and  who  knows 
what  changes  a  little  time  might  produce  or  how  Pro- 
vidence might  graciously  interpose  !  With  so  many 
reasons  to  wish  to  avoid  extremities  (I  mean  for  the 

*  In  case  Byron  altered  his  will. 


MRS.  LEIGH'S  DUPLICITY  377 

sake  of  others),  one  leans  to  what  appears  the  safest, 
and  one  is  a  coward. 

'  But  the  other  at  the  same  time  has  something 
gratifying  to  one's  feelings — and  I  think  might  be  said 
and  done — so  that,  if  he  showed  the  letters,  it  would 
be  no  evidence  against  the  person;  and  worded  with 
that  kindness,  and  appearance  of  real  affectionate  con- 
cern for  him  as  well  as  the  other  person  concerned, 
that  it  might  possibl}^  touch  him.  Pray  think  of  what 
I  have  thought^  and  write  me  a  line,  not  to  decide,  for 
that  I  cannot  expect,  but  to  tell  me  if  1  deceived  myself 
in  the  ideas  I  have  expressed  to  you.  I  shall  not, 
cannot  answer  till  the  latest  post-day  this  week. 

*  1  know  you  will  forgive  me  for  this  infliction,  and 
may  God  bless  you  for  that,  and  every  other  kindness.' 

We  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  read  a  letter 
more  frankly  disingenuous  than  this.  The  duplicity 
lurking  in  every  line  shows  why  the  cause  of  the 
separation  between  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  has  been 
for  so  long  a  mystery.  Lady  B3^ron  herself  was 
mystified  by  Augusta  Leigh.  It  certainly  was  not 
easy  for  Lady  Byron  to  gauge  the  deep  deception 
practised  upon  her  by  both  her  husband  and  Mrs. 
Leigh ;  and  yet  it  is  surprising  that  Lady  Byron 
should  not  have  suspected,  in  Augusta's  self-depre- 
ciation, an  element  of  fraud.  Was  it  likely  that 
Augusta,  who  had  good  reason  to  hate  Lady  Byron, 
would  have  provided  her  with  such  damning  proofs 
against  her  brother  and  herself,  if  she  had'  not  pos- 
sessed a  clear  conscience  in  the  matter?  She  relied 
implicitly  upon  Byron's  letter  being  destroyed,  and 
so  worded  her  own  that  it  would  be  extremely  difficult 
for  anyone  but  Lady  Byron  to  understand  what  she 
was  writing  about.  It  will  be  noticed  that  no  names 
are  mentioned  in  any  of  her  missives.  People  are 
referred  to  either  as  'maniacs,'  'victims,'  'unfortunate 
objects,'  or  as  '  that  most  detestable  woman,  your  rela- 


378  '  ASTARTE ' 

tion  by  marriage,'  which,  in  a  confidential  communica- 
tion to  a  sister-in-law,  would  be  superfluous  caution 
were  she  really  sincere.  But,  after  the  separation 
period,  Mrs.  Leigh  was  never  sincere  in  her  inter- 
course with  Lady  Byron.  Through  that  lady's  un- 
flattering suspicions,  Augusta  had  suffered  '  too  much 
to  be  forgiven.'  Lady  Byron,  on  the  other  hand,  with 
very  imperfect  understanding  of  her  sister-in-law's 
character,  was  entirely  at  her  mercy.  To  employ  a 
colloquialism,  the  whole  thing  was  a  *  blind,'  devised 
to  support  Augusta's  role  as  a  repentant  Magdalen ;  to 
attract  compassion,  perhaps  even  pecuniary  assistance  ; 
and,  above  all,  to  shield  the  mother  of  Medora.  The 
ruse  was  successful.  Lady  Byron  saw  a  chance  of 
eventually  procuring,  in  the  handwriting  of  her  hus- 
band, conclusive  evidence  of  his  crime.  In  her  letter 
of  June  27,  1 8 19,  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  she  conveyed  a  hint 
that  Byron  might  be  lured  to  make  'a  more  unequivocal 
disclosure  than  has  yet  been  made.' 

Lady  Byron,  it  must  be  remembered,  craved  inces- 
santly for  documentary  proofs,  which  might  be  pro- 
duced, if  necessary,  to  justify  her  conduct.  It  is 
significant  that  at  the  time  of  writing  she  possessed  no 
evidence,  except  the  letters  which  Mrs.  Clermont  had 
purloined  from  Byron's  writing-desk,  and  these  were 
pronounced  b}^  Lushington  to  be  far  from  conclusive. 

Mrs.  Leigh  seems  to  have  enjoyed  the  wrigglings 
of  her  victim  on  the  hook.  *  Decision  was  never  my 
forte,'  she  writes  to  Lady  Byron  :  '  one  ought  to  act 
right,  and  leave  the  issue  to  Providence.' 

The  whole  episode  would  be  intensely  comical  were 
it  not  so  pathetic.  As  might  have  been  expected.  Lady 
Byron  eventually  suffered  far  more  than  the  woman 
she  had  so  cruelly  wounded.    Augusta  seems  coolly  to 


MRS.  LEIGH'S  DUPLICITY  379 

suggest  that  her  brother  might  'out  of  revenge' 
(because  his  sister  acted  virtuously?)  publish  to  the 
world  his  incestuous  intercourse  with  her !  Could 
anyone  in  his  senses  believe  such  nonsense  ?  Augusta 
hints  that  then  Lady  Byron  would  be  able  to  procure 
a  divorce ;  and,  as  Lady  Noel  was  still  alive,  Byron 
would  not  be  able  to  participate  in  that  lady's  fortune 
at  her  death. 

The  words,  '  There  seem  so  many  reasons  why  he 
should  for  his  own  sake  abstain  for  the  present  from 
gratifying  his  revenge  ...  it  would  surely  be  ruin  to 
all  his  prospects,'  are  plain  enough.  Even  if  there 
had  been  anything  to  disclose,  Byron  would  never 
have  wounded  that  sister  who  stood  at  his  side  at  the 
darkest  hour  of  his  life,  who  had  sacrificed  herself  in 
order  to  screen  his  love  for  Mary  Chaworth,  and  who 
was  his  sole  rock  of  refuge  in  this  stormy  world.  But 
it  was  necessary  to  show  Lady  Byron  that  she  was 
standing  on  the  brink  '  of  a  precipice.' 

*  On  the  subject  of  the  mortgage,'  writes  Augusta, 
*  1  mean  to  decline  that  wholly ;  and  pray  do  me  the 
justice  to  believe  that  one  thought  of  the  interests  of 
my  children,  as  far  as  that  channel  is  concerned,  never 
crosses  my  mind,  I  have  entreated — I  believe  more 
than  once — that  the  will  might  be  altered.  [Oh, 
Augusta !]  But  if  it  is  not — as  far  as  I  understand 
the  matter — there  is  not  the  slightest  probability  of 
their  ever  deriving  any  benefit.  Whatever  my  feelings, 
dear  A.,  I  assure  you,  never  in  my  life  have  I  looked 
to  advantage  of  that  sort.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  have 
any  merit  in  not  doing  it — but  that  I  have  no  inclina- 
tion, therefore  nothing  to  struggle  with.  I  trust  my 
babes  to  Providence,  and,  provided  they  are  good,  I 
think,  perhaps,  too  little  of  the  rest.' 

It  is  plain  that  Augusta  was  getting  nervous  about 
her  brother's  attachment  to   the   Guiccioli,  a  liaison 


380  '  ASTARTE ' 

which  might  end  in  trouble  ;  and  if  that  lady  was 
avaricious  (which  she  was  not)  Byron  might  be  in- 
duced to  alter  his  will  (made  in  1815),  by  which  he 
left  all  his  share  in  the  property  to  Augusta's  children. 
With  a  mother's  keen  eye  to  their  ultimate  advantage, 
she  tried  hard  to  make  their  position  secure,  so  that, 
in  the  event  of  Byron  changing  his  mind.  Lady  Byron 
might  make  suitable  provision  for  them.  It  was  a 
prize  worth  playing  for,  and  she  played  the  game  for 
all  it  was  worth.  *  Leaving  her  babes  to  Providence  * 
was  just  the  kind  of  sentiment  most  likely  to  appeal 
to  Lady  Byron  who  did,  in  a  measure,  respond  to 
Augusta's  hints.  In  a  letter  (December  23,  18 19) 
Lady  Byron  writes  : 

'  With  regard  to  your  pecuniary  interests  ...  I  am 
aware  that  the  interests  of  your  children  may  rightly 
influence  your  conduct  when  guilt  is  not  incurred  by 
consulting  them.  However,  your  children  cannot,  I 
trust,  under  any  circumstances,  be  left  destitute,  for 
reasons  which  I  will  hereafter  communicate.' 

There  was  at  this  time  a  strong  probability  of 
Byron's  return  to  England.  Lady  Byron  tried  to 
extract  from  Augusta  a  promise  that  she  would  not 
see  him.  Augusta  fenced  with  the  question,  until, 
when  driven  into  a  corner,  she  was  compelled  to 
admit  that  it  would  be  unnatural  to  close  the  door 
against  her  brother.     Lady  Byron  was  furious  : 

'  I  do  not  consider  you  bound  to  me  in  any  way,' 
she  writes.  '  I  told  you  what  I  knew,  because  I 
thought  that  measure  would  enable  me  to  befriend 
you — and  chiefly  by  representing  the  objections  to  a 
renewal  of  personal  communication  between  you  and 
him.  .  .  .  We  must,  according  to  your  present  inten- 
tions, act  independently  of  each  other.  On  my  part  it 
will  still  be  with  every  possible  consideration  for  you 
and  your  children,  and  should  I,  by  your  reception  of 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  381 

him,  be  obliged  to  relinquish  my  intercourse  with 
you,  I  will  do  so  in  such  manner  as  shall  be  least 
prejudicial  to  your  interests.  I  shall  most  earnestly 
wish  that  the  results  of  your  conduct  may  tend  to 
establish  your  peace,  instead  of  aggravating  3^our  re- 
morse. But,  entertaining  these  views  of  your  duty 
and  my  own,  could  I  in  honesty,  or  in  friendship, 
suppress  them  ?' 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  Lady  Byron,  in 
1816,  after  Augusta's  so-called  'confession,'  would 
have  kept  her  secret  inviolate.  That  had  been  a  con- 
dition precedent ;  without  it  Augusta  would  not  have 
ventured  to  deceive  even  Lady  Byron.  It  appears 
from  the  following  note,  written  by  Lady  Byron  to 
Mrs.  Villiers,  that  Augusta's  secret  had  been  confided 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  that  lady.  On  January  26, 
1820,  Lady  Byron  writes  : 

'  I  am  reluctant  to  give  you  my  impression  of  what 
has  passed  between  Augusta  and  me,  respecting  her 
conduct  in  case  of  his  return ;  but  I  should  like  to 
know  whether  your  unbiassed  opinion,  formed  from 
the  statement  of  facts,  coincided  with  it.' 

Verily,  Augusta  had  been  playing  with  fire ! 


CHAPTER  V 

On  December  31,  1819,   Byron  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
wife.     Tlie  following  is  an  extract : 

'  Augusta  can  tell  you  all  about  me  and  mine,  if  you 
think  either  worth  the  inquiry.  The  object  of  my 
writing  is  to  come.  It  is  this  :  I  saw  Moore  three 
months  ago,  and  gave  to  his  care  a  long  Memoir, 
written  up  to  the  summer  of  18 16,  of  my  life,  which  I 
had  been  writing  since  I  left  England.  It  will  not  be 
published  till  after  my  death  ;  and,  in  fact,  it  is  a 
Memoir,  and  not  "  Confessions."  I  have  omitted  the 
most  important  and  decisive  events  and  passions  of 
my  existence,  not  to  compromise  others.  But  it  is  not 
so  with  the  part  you  occupy,  which  is  long  and 
minute ;  and  I  could  wish  you  to  see,  read,  and  mark 
any  part  or  parts  that  do  not  appear  to  coincide  with 
the  truth.  The  truth  I  have  always  stated — but  there 
are  two  ways  of  looking  at  it,  and  your  way  may  be 
not  mine.  I  have  never  revised  the  papers  since  they 
were  written.  You  may  read  them  and  mark  what 
you  please.  I  wish  you  to  know  what  I  think  and  say 
of  you  and  yours.  You  will  find  nothing  to  flatter 
you  ;  nothing  to  lead  you  to  the  most  remote  suppo- 
sition that  we  could  ever  have  been — or  be  happy 
together.  But  I  do  not  choose  to  give  to  another 
generation  statements  which  we  cannot  arise  from  the 
dust  to  prove  or  disprove,  without  letting  you  see 
fairly  and  fully  what  I  look  upon  you  to  have  been, 
and  what  I  depict  you  as  being.  If,  seeing  this,  you 
can  detect  what  is  false,  or  answer  what  is  charged,  do 
so  ;  your  mark  shall  not  be  erased.     You  will  perhaps 

382 


LADY  BYRON  AND  THE  MEMOIRS     383 

say,  Why  write  my  life  ?  Alas  !  I  say  so  too.  But  they 
who  have  traduced  it,  and  blasted  it,  and  branded  me, 
should  know  that  it  is  they,  and  not  I,  are  the  cause.  It 
is  no  great  pleasure  to  have  lived,  and  less  to  live  over 
again  the  details  of  existence ;  but  the  last  becomes 
sometimes  a  necessity,  and  even  a  duty.  If  you 
choose  to  see  this,  you  may  ;  if  you  do  not,  you  have 
at  least  had  the  option.' 

The  receipt  of  this  letter  gave  Lady  Byron  the 
deepest  concern,  and,  in  the  impulse  of  a  moment,  she 
drafted  a  reply  full  of  bitterness  and  defiance.  But 
Dr.  Lushington  persuaded  her — not  without  a  deal 
of  trouble — to  send  an  answer  the  terms  of  which, 
after  considerable  delay,  were  arranged  between 
them.  The  letter  in  question  has  already  appeared  in 
Mr.  Prothero's  *  Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron,'* 
together  with  Byron's  spirited  rejoinder  of  April  3, 
1820. 

Lord  Lovelace  throws  much  light  upon  the  inner 
workings  of  Lady  Byron's  mind  at  this  period.  That 
she  should  have  objected  to  the  publication  of  Byron's 
memoirs  was  natural ;  but,  instead  of  saying  this  in  a 
few  dignified  sentences.  Lady  Byron  parades  her 
wrongs,  and  utters  dark  hints  as  to  the  possible  com- 
plicity of  Augusta  Leigh  in  Byron's  mysterious  scheme 
of  revenge.  Dr.  Lushington  at  first  thought  that  it 
would  be  wiser  and  more  diplomatic  to  beg  Byron's 
sister  to  dissuade  him  from  pubHshing  his  memoirs, 
but  Lady  Byron  scented  danger  in  that  course. 

'  I  foresee,'  she  wrote  to  Colonel  Doyle,  *  from  the 
transmission  of  such  a  letter  .  .  .  this  consequence  : 
that  an  unreserved  disclosure  from  Mrs.  Leigh  to 
him  being  necessitated,  they  would  combine  together 
against  me,  he  being  actuated  by  revenge,  she  by  fear ; 

*  Vol.  v.,  p.  I. 


384  'ASTARTE' 

whereas,  from  her  never  having  dared  to  inform  him 
that  she  has  already  admitted  his  guilt  to  me  with  her 
own,  they  have  hitherto  been  prevented  from  acting  in 
concert' 

Byron  was,  of  course,  well  acquainted  with  what 
had  passed  between  his  wife  and  Augusta  Leigh,  It 
could  not  have  been  kept  from  him,  even  if  there  had 
been  any  reason  for  secrecy.  He  knew  that  his  sister 
had  been  driven  to  admit  that  Medora  was  his  child, 
thus  implying  the  crime  of  which  she  had  been  sus- 
pected. There  was  nothing,  therefore,  for  Augusta  to 
fear  from  him.  She  dreaded  a  public  scandal,  not  so 
much  on  her  own  account  as  '  for  the  sake  of  others.' 
For  that  reason  she  tried  to  dissuade  her  brother  from 
inviting  a  public  discussion  on  family  matters.  There 
was  no  reason  why  Augusta  should  '  combine '  with 
Byron  against  his  hapless  wife  I 

The  weakness  of  Lady  Byron's  position  is  admitted 
by  herself  in  a  letter  dated  January  29,  1820: 

*  My  information  previous  to  my  separation  was 
derived  either  directly  from  Lord  Byron,  or  from  my 
observations  on  that  part  of  his  conduct  which  he 
exposed  to  my  view.  The  infatuation  of  pride  may 
have  blinded  him  to  the  conclusions  which  must  in- 
evitably be  established  by  a  long  series  of  circum- 
stantial evidences.' 

Oh,  the  pity  of  it  all !  There  was  something 
demoniacal  in  Byron's  treatment  of  this  excellent 
woman.  Perhaps  it  was  all  very  natural  under  the 
circumstances.  Lady  Byron  seemed  to  invite  attack 
at  every  conceivable  moment,  and  did  not  realize  that 
a  wounded  tiger  is  always  dangerous.  This  is  the 
way  in  which  she  spoke  of  Augusta  to  Colonel  Doyle : 

*  Reluctant  as  I  have  ever  been  to  bring  my  domestic 
concerns  before  the  public,  and  anxious  as  I  have  felt 


AUGUSTA'S  LITTLE  PLAN  385 

to  save  from  ruin  a  near  connection  of  his,  I  shall  feel 
myself  compelled  by  duties  of  primary  importance,  if 
he  perseveres  in  accumulating  injuries  upon  me,  to 
make  a  disclosure  of  the  past  in  the  most  authentic  form.' 

Lady  Byron's  grandiloquent  phrase  had  no  deeper 
meaning  than  this  :  that  she  was  willing  to  accuse 
Augusta  Leigh  on  the  strength  of  'a  long  series  of 
circumstantial  evidences.'  We  leave  it  for  lawyers  to 
say  whether  that  charge  could  have  been  substantiated 
in  the  event  of  Mrs.  Leigh's  absolute  denial,  and  her 
disclosure  of  all  the  circumstances  relating  to  the  birth 
of  Medora. 

In  the  course  of  the  same  year  (1820)  Augusta, 
having  failed  to  induce  Lady  Byron  to  make  a  definite 
statement  as  to  her  intentions  with  regard  to  the 
Leigh  children,  urged  Byron  to  intercede  with  his 
wife  in  their  interests.  He  accordingly  wrote  several 
times  to  Lady  Byron,  asking  her  to  be  kind  to 
Augusta — in  other  words,  to  make  some  provision 
for  her  children.  It  seemed,  under  all  circumstances, 
a  strange  request  to  make,  but  Byron's  reasons  were 
sound.  In  accordance  with  the  restrictions  imposed 
by  his  marriage  settlement,  the  available  portion  of 
the  funds  would  revert  to  Lady  Byron  in  the  event 
of  his  predeceasing  her.  Lady  Byron  at  first  made 
no  promise  to  befriend  Augusta's  children ;  but  later 
she  wrote  to  say  that  the  past  would  not  prevent  her 
from  befriending  Augusta  Leigh  and  her  children 
'  in  any  future  circumstances  which  may  call  for  my 
assistance.' 

In  thanking  Lady  Byron  for  this  promise,  Byron 
writes : 

'As  to  Augusta  ****,  whatever  she  is,  or  may  have 
been, you  have  never  had  reason  to  complain  of  her; 

25 


386  'ASTARTE' 

on  the  contrary,  you  are  not  aware  of  the  obligations 
under  which  you  have  been  to  her.  Her  life  and 
mine — and  yours  and  mine — were  two  things  per- 
fectly distinct  from  each  other ;  when  one  ceased  the 
other  began,  and  now  both  are  closed.' 

Lord  Lovelace  seeks  to  make  much  out  of  that  state- 
ment, and  says  in  *  Astarte  ': 

*  It  is  evident,  from  the  allusion  in  this  letter,  that 
Byron  had  become  thoroughly  aware  of  the  extent  of 
Lady  Byron's  information,  and  did  not  wish  that  she 
should  be  misled.  He  probably  may  have  heard  from 
Augusta  herself  that  she  had  admitted  her  own  guilt, 
together  with  his,  to  Lady  Byron.' 

What  naivete!  Byron's  meaning  is  perfectly  clear. 
Whatever  she  was,  or  may  have  been — whatever  her 
virtues  or  her  sins — she  had  never  wronged  Lady 
Byron.  On  the  contrary,  she  had,  at  considerable  risk 
to  herself,  interceded  for  her  with  her  brother,  when 
the  crisis  came  into  their  married  life.  Byron's  inter- 
course with  his  sister  had  never  borne  any  connection 
with  his  relations  towards  his  wife — it  was  a  thing 
apart — and  at  the  time  of  writing  was  closed  perhaps 
for  ever.  He  plainly  repudiates  Lady  Byron's  cruel 
suspicions  of  a  criminal  intercourse  having  taken  place 
during  the  brief  period  of  their  married  existence. 
He  could  not  have  spoken  in  plainer  language  without 
indelicacy,  and  yet,  so  persistent  was  Lady  Byron  in 
her  evil  opinion  of  both,  these  simple  straightforward 
words  were  wholly  misconstrued.  Malignant  casuistry 
could  of  course  find  a  dark  hint  in  the  sentence, 
'  When  one  ceased,  the  other  began ';  but  the  mind 
must  indeed  be  prurient  that  could  place  the  worst 
construction  upon  the  expression  of  so  palpable  a  fact. 
It  was  not  Lady  Byron's  intention  to  complain  of 
things  that  had  taken  place  previous  to  her  marriage ; 


LORD  CHIEF  JUSTICE  COCKBURN     387 

her  contention  had  always  been  that  she  separated 
from  her  husband  in  consequence  of  his  conduct  while 
under  her  own  roof  When,  in  1869,  all  the  documen- 
tary evidence  upon  which  she  relied  was  shown  to 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Cockburn,  that  great  lawyer  thus 
expressed  his  opinion  of  their  value  : 

'  Lady  Byron  had  an  ill-conditioned  mind,  preying 
upon  itself,  till  morbid  delusion  was  the  result.  If 
not,  she  was  an  accomplished  hypocrite,  regardless  of 
truth,  and  to  whose  statements  no  credit  whatever 
ought  to  be  attached.' 

Lord  Lovelace  tells  us  that  all  the  charges  made 
against  Lady  Byron  in  1869  (when  the  Beecher  Stowe 
'  Revelations  '  were  published)  would  have  collapsed 
*  if  all  her  papers  had  then  been  accessible  and  avail- 
able ';  and  that  Dr.  Lushington,  who  was  then  alive, 
'  from  the  best  and  kindest  motives,  and  long  habit  of 
silence,'  exerted  his  influence  over  the  other  trustees 
to  suppress  them  !  Why,  we  may  ask,  was  this  ?  The 
answer  suggests  itself.  It  was  because  he  well  knew 
that  there  was  nothing  in  those  papers  to  fix  guilt 
upon  Mrs.  Leigh.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Dr. 
Lushington,  in  1816,  expressed  his  deliberate  opinion 
that  the  proofs  were  wholly  insufficient  to  sustain  a 
charge  of  incest.  In  this  connection  Lady  Byron's 
written  statement,  dated  March  14,  1816,  is  most 
valuable. 

'The  causes  of  this  suspicion,'  she  writes,  'did  not 
amount  to  proof  .  .  .  and  I  considered  that,  whilst  a 
possibility  of  innocence  existed,  every  principle  of 
duty  and  humanity  forbade  me  to  act  as  ii  Mrs.  Leigh 
was  actually  guilty,  more  especially  as  any  intimation 
of  so  heinous  a  crime,  even  if  not  distinctly  proved, 
must  have  seriously  affected  Mrs.  Leigh's  character 
and  happiness.' 

25 — 2 


388  '  ASTARTE ' 

Exactly  one  month  after  Lady  Byron  had  written 
those  words,  her  husband  addressed  her  in  the  follow- 
ing terms  : 

*  I  have  just  parted  from  Augusta — almost  the  last 
being  you  had  left  me  to  part  with,  and  the  only  un- 
shattered  tie  of  my  existence.  Wherever  I  may  go, 
and  I  am  going  far,  you  and  I  can  never  meet  again  in 
this  world,  nor  in  the  next.  Let  this  content  or  atone. 
If  any  accident  occurs  to  me,  be  kind  to  her ;  if  she  is 
then  nothing,  to  her  children,' 

It  was,  as  we  have  seen,  five  years  before  Lady 
Byron  could  bring  herself  to  make  any  reply  to  this 
appeal.  How  far  she  fulfilled  the  promise  then  made, 
'  to  befriend  Augusta  Leigh  and  her  children  in  any 
future  circumstances  which  might  call  for  her  assist- 
ance,' may  be  left  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader. 
We  can  find  no  evidence  of  it  in  *  Astarte '  or  in  the 
'  Revelations  '  of  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe. 


CHAPTER  VI 

In  order  to  meet  the  charges  which  the  late  Lord 
Lovelace  brought  against  Mrs.  Leigh  in  'Astarte,'  we 
have  been  compelled  to  quote  rather  extensively  from 
its  pages.  In  the  chapter  entitled  '  Manfred '  will  be 
found  selections  from  a  mass  of  correspondence  which, 
without  qualification  or  comment,  might  go  far  to  con- 
vince the  reader.  Lord  Lovelace  was  evidently  *  a 
good  hater,'  and  he  detested  the  very  name  of  Augusta 
Leigh  with  all  his  heart  and  soul.  There  was  some 
reason  for  this.  She  had,  in  Lord  Lovelace's  opinion, 
'  substituted  herselffor  Lord  Byron's  right  heirs'  ('Astarte,' 
p.  125).  It  was  evidently  a  sore  point  that  Augusta 
should  have  benefited  by  Lord  Byron's  will.  Lord 
Lovelace  forgot  that  Lady  Byron  had  approved  of  the 
terms  of  her  husband's  will,  and  that  Lady  Byron's 
conduct  had  not  been  such  as  to  deserve  any  pecuniary 
consideration  at  Lord  Byron's  death.  But  impartiality 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  Lord  Lovelace's  forte. 
Having  made  up  his  mind  that  Mrs.  Leigh  was  guilty, 
he  selected  from  his  papers  whatever  might  appear 
most  likely  to  convict  her.  But  the  violence  of  his 
antagonism  has  impaired  the  value  of  his  contention ; 
and  the  effect  of  his  arguments  is  very  different  from 
that  which  he  intended.  Having  satisfied  himself  that 
Mrs.  Leigh  (though  liked  and  respected  by  her  con- 

389 


390  '  ASTARTE ' 

temporaries)  was  an  abandoned  woman,  Lord  Lovelace 
says : 

*A  real  reformation,  according  to  Christian  ideals, 
would  not  merely  have  driven  Byron  and  Augusta 
apart  from  each  other,  but  expelled  them  from  the 
world  of  wickedness,  consigned  them  for  the  rest  of 
their  lives  to  strict  expiation  and  holiness.  But  this 
could  never  be;  and  in  the  long-run  her  flight  to  an 
outcast  life  would  have  been  a  lesser  evil  than  the 
consequences  of  preventing  it.  The  fall  of  Mrs.  Leigh 
would  have  been  a  definite  catastrophe,  affecting  a  small 
number  of  people  for  a  time  in  a  startling  manner.  The 
disaster  would  have  been  obvious,  but  partial,  imme- 
diately over  and  ended.  .  .  .  She  would  have  lived 
in  open  revolt  against  the  Christian  standard,  not  in 
secret  disobedience  and  unrepentant  hypocrisy.' 

Poor  Mrs.  Leigh  !  and  was  it  so  bad  as  all  that  ? 
Had  she  committed  incest  with  her  brother  after  the 
separation  of  1816?  Did  she  follow  Byron  abroad  'in 
the  dress  of  a  page,'  as  stated  by  some  lying  chronicler 
from  the  banks  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva  ?  Did  Byron 
come  to  England  in  secret  at  some  period  between 
1816  and  1824?  If  not,  what  on  earth  is  the  meaning 
of  this  mysterious  homily  ?  Does  Lord  Lovelace,  in 
the  book  that  survives  him,  wish  the  world  to  believe 
that  Lady  Byron  prevented  Augusta  from  deserting 
her  husband  and  children,  and  flying  into  Byron's 
arms  in  a  '  far  countree '  ?  If  that  was  the  author's 
intention,  he  has  signally  failed.  There  never  was  a 
moment,  since  the  trip  abroad  was  abandoned  in  181 3, 
when  Augusta  had  the  mind  to  join  her  brother  in  his 
travels.  There  is  not  a  hint  of  any  such  wish  in  any 
document  published  up  to  the  present  time.  Augusta, 
who  was  undoubtedly  innocent,  had  suffered  enough 
from  the  lying  reports  that  had  been  spread  about 
town  by  Lady  Caroline  Lamb,  ever  to  wish  for  another 


PERILOUS  DOCTRINES  391 

dose  of  scandal.  If  the  Lovelace  papers  contain  any 
hint  of  that  nature,  the  author  of  '  Astarte  '  would  most 
assuredly  have  set  it  forth  in  Double  Pica,  It  is  a 
baseless  calumny. 

In  Lord  Lovelace's  opinion, 

'judged  by  the  light  of  nature,  a  heroism  and  sin- 
cerity of  united  fates  and  doom  would  have  seemed, 
beyond  all  comparison,  purer  and  nobler  than  what 
they  actually  drifted  into.  By  the  social  code,  sin 
between  man  and  woman  can  never  be  blotted  out, 
as  assuredly  it  is  the  most  irreversible  of  facts.  Never- 
theless, societies  secretly  respect,  though  they  excom- 
municate, those  rebel  lovers  who  sacrifice  everything 
else,  but  observe  a  law  of  their  own,  and  make  a 
religion  out  of  sin  itself,  by  living  it  through  with 
constancy.' 

These  be  perilous  doctrines,  surely !  But  how  do 
those  reflections  apply  to  the  case  of  B3Ton  and  his 
sister?  The  hypothesis  maybe  something  like  this: 
Byron  and  his  sister  commit  a  deadly  sin.  They  are 
found  out,  but  their  secret  is  kept  by  a  select  circle  of 
their  friends.  They  part,  and  never  meet  again  in  this 
world.  The  sin  might  have  been  forgiven,  or  at  least 
condoned,  if  they  had  '  observed  a  law  of  their  own  ' — 
in  other  words,   'gone   on   sinning.'     Why?   because 

*  societies  secretly  respect  rebel  lovers.'  But  these 
wretches  had  not  the  courage  of  their  profligacy  ; 
they  parted  and  sinned  no  more,  therefore  they  were 

*  unrepentant  hypocrites.'  The  '  heroism  and  sincerity 
of  united  fates  and  doom '  was  denied  to  them,  and 
no  one  would  ever  have  suspected  them  of  such  a 
crime,  if  Lady  Byron  and  Lord  Lovelace  had  not 
betrayed  them.  What  pestilential  rubbish !  One 
wonders  how  a  man  of  Lord  Lovelace's  undoubted 
ability  could  have  sunk  to  bathos  of  that  kind. 


392  '  ASTARTE ' 

'  Byron,'  he  tells  us,  '  was  ready  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing for  Augusta,  and  to  defy  the  world  with  her. 
If  this  had  not  been  prevented  [the  italics  are  ours],  he 
would  have  been  a  more  poetical  figure  in  history  than  as 
the  author  of  "  Manfred."  ' 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  in  Lord  Lovelace's  opinion 
Byron  and  Augusta  were  prevented  by  someone  from 
becoming  poetical  figures.  Who  was  that  guardian 
angel  ?     Lady  Byron,  of  course  ! 

Now,  what  are  the  facts  ?  Byron  parted  from  his 
sister  on  April  14,  18 16,  Jiine  days  prior  to  his  own 
departure  from  London.  They  never  met  again.  There 
was  nothing  to  *  prevent '  them  from  being  together 
up  to  the  last  moment  if  they  had  felt  so  disposed. 
Byron  never  disguised  his  deep  and  lasting  affection 
for  Augusta,  whom  in  private  he  called  his  '  Dear 
Goose,' and  in  public  his  'Sweet  Sister.'  There  was 
no  hypocrisy  on  either  side — nothing,  in  short,  except 
the  prurient  imagination  of  a  distracted  wife,  aided 
and  abetted  by  a  circle  of  fawning  gossips. 

It  is  a  lamentable  example  of  how  public  opinion 
may  be  misdirected  by  evidence,  which  Horace  would 
have  called  Parthis  mendacior. 

Lord  Lovelace  comforts  himself  by  the  reflection 
that  Auffusta 


*fc>' 


'was  not  spared  misery  or  degradation  by  being 
preserved  from  flagrant  acts  ;  for  nothing  could  be 
more  wretched  than  her  subsequent  existence  ;  and 
far  from  growing  virtuous,  she  went  farther  down 
without  end  temporally  and  spiritually.' 

Now,  that  is  very  strange !  How  could  Augusta 
have  gone  farther  down  spiritually  after  Byron's  de- 
parture ?  According  to  Lord  Lovelace,  '  Character 
regained  was  the  consummation  of  Mrs.  Leigh's  ruin  !' 


A  CRYPTIC  UTTERANCE  393 

Mrs.  Leigh  must  have  been  totally  unlike  anyone 
else,  if  character  regained  proved  her  ruin.  There 
must  be  some  mistake.  No,  there  it  is  in  black  and 
white.  *  Her  return  to  outward  respectability  was  an 
unmixed  misfortune  to  the  third  person  through  whose 
protection  it  was  possible.' 

This  cryptic  utterance  implies  that  Mrs.  Leigh's 
respectability  was  injurious  to  Lady  Byron.     Why  ? 

'  If  Augusta  had  fled  to  Byron  in  exile,  and  was 
seen  with  him  as  et  soror  et  conjiix^  the  victory  re- 
mained with  Lady  Byron,  solid  and  final.  This  was 
the  solution  hoped  for  by  Lady  Byron's  friends^  Lushington 
and  Doyle,  as  well  as  Lady  Noel.' 

So  the  cat  is  out  of  the  bag  at  last !  It  having 
been  impossible  for  Lady  Byron  to  bring  any  proof 
against  Byron  and  his  sister  which  would  have 
held  water  in  a  law-court,  her  friends  and  her  legal 
adviser  hoped  that  Augusta  would  desert  her  husband 
and  children,  and  thus  furnish  them  with  evidence 
which  would  justify  their  conduct  before  the  world. 
But  Augusta  was  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  oblige 
them.  This  was  a  pity,  because,  according  to  Lord 
Lovelace,  who  was  the  most  ingenuous  of  men : 
*  Their  triumph  and  Lady  Byron's  justification  would 
have  been  complete,  and  great  would  have  been  their 
rejoicing.' 

Well,  they  made  up  for  it  afterwards,  when  Byron 
and  Augusta  were  dead ;  after  those  memoirs  had 
been  destroyed  which,  in  Byron's  words,  'will  be  a 
kind  of  guide-post  in  case  of  death,  and  prevent  some 
of  the  lies  which  would  otherwise  be  told,  and  destro}' 
some  which  have  been  told  already.' 

In  allusion  to  the  meetings  between  Lady  Byron 


394  •  ASTARTE ' 

and  Augusta  immediately  after  the  separation,  we  are 
told  in  '  Astarte '  that 

'  on  all  these  occasions,  one  subject — uppermost  in  the 
thoughts  of  both — had  been  virtually  ignored,  except 
that  Augusta  had  had  the  audacity  to  name  the  reports 
about  herself  with  all  the  pride  of  innocence.  Inter- 
cotirse  could  not  continue  on  that  footings  for  Augusta 
probably  aimed  at  a  positive  guarantee  of  her  inno- 
cence, and  at  committing  Lady  Byron  irretrievably  to 
that' 

This  was  great  presumption  on  Mrs.  Leigh's  part, 
after  all  the  pains  they  had  taken  to  make  her  uncom- 
fortable. Lady  Byron,  we  are  told  by  Lord  Lovelace, 
could  no  longer  bear  the  false  position,  and  'before 
leaving  London  she  went  to  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Villiers — a 
most  intimate  friend  of  Augusta's' — and  deliberately 
poisoned  her  mind.  That  which  she  told  Mrs.  Villiers 
is  not  stated  ;  but  we  infer  that  Lady  Byron  retailed 
some  of  the  gossip  that  had  reached  her  through  one 
of  Mrs.  Leigh's  servants  who  had  overheard  part  of  a 
a  conversation  between  Augusta  and  Byron  shortly 
after  Medora's  birth.  After  the  child  had  been  taken 
to  St.  James's  Palace,  Byron  often  went  there.  It  is 
likely  that  Augusta  had  been  overheard  jesting  with 
Byron  about  his  child.  We  cannot  be  sure  of  this  ; 
but,  at  any  rate,  some  such  expression,  if  whispered 
in  Lady  Byron's  ears,  would  be  sufficient  to  confirm 
her  erroneous  belief. 

Mrs.  Villiers,  we  are  told,  began  from  this  time  to 
be  slightly  prejudiced  against  Augusta.  She  believed 
her  to  be  absolutely  pure,  but  with  lax  notions  of 
morality.  This  sounds  like  a  contradiction  in  terms, 
but  so  it  was ;  and  through  the  wilful  misrepre- 
sentation of  Lady  Byron  and  her  coterie,  Augusta's 


AUGUSTA  PERSECUTED  395 

best  friend  was  lured  from  her  allegiance.  Mrs.  Villiers 
was  also  informed  of  something  else  by  Wilmot- 
Horton,  another  friend  of  Lady  Byron's.  The  plot 
thickened,  and,  without  any  attempt  being  made  to 
arrive  at  the  truth,  Augusta's  life  became  almost  un- 
bearable. No  wonder  the  poor  woman  said  in  her 
agony  :  '  None  can  know  how  much  I  have  suffered 
from  this  unhappy  business,  and,  indeed,  I  have  never 
known  a  moment's  peace,  and  begin  to  despair  for  the 
future.' 

The  '  unhappy  business  *  was,  of  course,  her  unwise 
adoption  of  Medora.  Through  that  error  of  judgment 
she  was  doomed  to  plod  her  way  to  the  grave,  sus- 
pected by  even  her  dearest  friend,  and  persecuted  by 
the  Byron  family.  Mrs.  Villiers  was  a  good  woman 
and  scented  treason.  She  boldly  urged  Lady  Byron 
to  avow  to  Augusta  the  information  of  which  she  was 
in  possession.  But  Lady  Byron  was  at  first  afraid  to 
run  the  risk.  She  knew  very  well  the  value  of  ser- 
vants' gossip,  and  feared  the  open  hostility  of  Augusta 
if  she  made  common  cause  with  Byron,  This  much 
she  ingenuously  avowed  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Lushington. 
But,  upon  being  further  pressed,  she  consented  to 
write  to  Augusta  and  announce  what  she  had  been 
told.  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  letter  was  written 
with  great  care,  after  consultation  with  Colonel  Doyle 
and  Lushington,  and  that  the  gossip  was  retailed  with 
every  outward  consideration  for  Augusta's  feelings. 
Whatever  was  said,  and  there  is  no  evidence  of  it  in 
*  Astarte,'  we  are  there  told  that  '  Augusta  did  not 
attempt  to  deny  it,  and,  in  fact,  admitted  everything 
in  subsequent  letters  to  Lady  Byron  during  the  summer 
of  1816.'  Lord  Lovelace  ingenuously  adds  :  '  It  is  un- 
necessary to  produce  them  here,  as  their  contents  are 


396  '  ASTARTE ' 

confirmed  and  made  sufficiently  clear  by  the  corre- 
spondence of  1819,  in  another  chapter.' 

It  is  very  strange  that  Lord  Lovelace,  who  is  not 
thrifty  in  his  selections,  should  have  withheld  the  only 
positive  proof  of  Augusta's  confession  known  to  be  in 
existence.  His  reference  to  the  letters  of  18 19,  which 
he  publishes,  is  a  poor  substitute  for  the  letters  them- 
selves. The  only  letter  which  affords  any  clue  to  the 
mystery  is  the  'Dearest  Love'  letter,  dated  May  17, 
1819,  which  we  have  quoted  in  a  previous  chapter. 
The  value  of  that  letter,  as  evidence  against  Augusta, 
we  have  already  shown.  When  compared  with  the 
letter  which  Byron  wrote  to  his  sister  on  June  3,  1817 
— a  year  after  he  had  parted  from  her — the  conclu- 
sion that  the  incriminating  letter  is  not  addressed  to 
Augusta  at  all,  forces  itself  irresistibly  upon  the  mind. 
As  an  example  of  varying  moods,  it  is  worth  quoting : 

'  For  the  life  of  me  I  can't  make  out  whether  your 
disorder  is  a  broken  heart  or  ear-ache — or  whether  it 
is  you  that  have  been  ill  or  the  children — or  what  your 
melancholy  and  mysterious  apprehensions  tend  to — or 
refer  to — whether  to  Caroline  Lamb's  novels — Mrs. 
Clermont's  evidence — Lady  Byron's  magnanimity,  or 
any  other  piece  of  imposture.' 

It  is  really  laughable  to  suppose  that  the  writer  of 
the  above  extract  could  have  written  to  the  same  lady 
two  years  later  in  the  following  strain : 

'  My  dearest  love,  I  have  never  ceased,  nor  can  cease, 
to  feel  for  a  moment  that  perfect  and  boundless  attach- 
ment which  bound  and  binds  me  to  you — which  renders 
me  utterly  incapable  of  7'eal  love  for  any  other  human 
being — for  what  could  they  be  to  me  after  jfow  ?  My 
own  ****  we  may  have  been  very  wrong,'  etc. 

But  Lord  Lovelace  found  no  difficulty  in  believing 
that  the  letter  in  question  sealed  the  fate  of  Augusta 


NO  EVIDENCE  TO  BRING  INTO  COURT     397 

Leigh.  In  the  face  of  such  a  document,  Lord  Lovelace 
thought  that  a  direct  confession  in  Augusta's  hand- 
writing would  be  superfluous,  and  Sir  Leslie  Stephen 
had  warned  him  against  superfluity ! 

Colonel  Doyle,  an  intimate  friend  of  Lady  Byron, 
seems  to  have  been  the  only  man  on  her  side  of  the 
question  —  not  even  excepting  Lushington  —  who 
showed  anything  approaching  to  common  sense.  He 
perceived  that  Lady  Byron,  by  avowing  the  grounds 
of  her  suspicions  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  had  placed  herself  in 
an  awkward  position.  He  foresaw  that  this  avowal 
would  turn  Mrs.  Leigh  into  an  enemy,  who  must 
sooner  or  later  avenge  the  insults  heaped  upon  her. 
On  July  9,  1 8 16,  Colonel  Doyle  wrote  to  Lady  Byron  : 

'  Your  feelings  I  perfectly  understand  ;  I  will  even 
whisper  to  you  t  approve.  But  you  must  remember 
that  your  position  is  very  extraordinary,  and  though, 
when  we  have  sufficiently  deliberated  and  decided,  we 
should  pursue  our  course  without  embarrassing  our- 
selves with  the  consequences  ;  yet  we  should  not 
neglect  the  means  of  fully  justifying  ourselves  if  the  neces- 
sity be  ever  imposed  upon  us.' 

We  have  quoted  enough  to  show  that,  five  months 
after  the  separation  was  formally  proposed  to  Lord  Byron, 
they  had  not  sufficient  evidence  to  bring  into  a  court 
of  law.  Under  those  depressing  circumstances  Lady 
Byron  was  urged  to  induce  Augusta  to  '  confess  ';  the 
conspirators  would  have  been  grateful  even  for  an 
admission  of  guilt  as  prior  to  Lord  Byron's  marriage  ! 

Colonel  Doyle,  as  a  man  of  honour,  did  not  wish 
Lady  Byron  to  rely  upon  *  confessions '  made  under 
the  seal  of  secrecy.  They  had,  apparently,  been  duped 
on  a  previous  occasion  ;  and,  in  case  Mrs.  Leigh  were 
to  bring  an  action  against  Lady  Byron  for  defamation 
of  character,  it  would  not  be  advisable  to  rely,  for  her 


398  *  ASTARTE ' 

defence,  upon  letters  which  were  strictly  private  and 
confidential.  As  to  Augusta's  'admissions,'  made 
orally  and  without  witnesses,  they  were  absolutely 
valueless — especially  as  the  conditions  under  which 
they  were  made  could  not  in  honour  be  broken. 

Augusta  through  all  this  worry  fell  into  a  state  of 
deep  dejection.  She  had  been  accused  of  a  crime 
which  (though  innocent)  she  had  tacitly  admitted. 
Her  friends  were  beginning  to  look  coldly  upon  her, 
and  consequently  her  position  became  tenfold  more 
difficult  and  *  extraordinary'  than  that  of  her  accuser. 
Perhaps  she  came  to  realize  the  truth  of  Dryden's  lines  : 

'  Smooth  the  descent  and  easy  is  the  way ; 
But  to  return,  and  view  the  cheerful  skies, 
In  this  the  task  and  mighty  labour  lies.' 

Equivocation  is  a  dangerous  game. 

Lord  Lovelace  tells  us  that  all  the  papers  concern- 
ing the  marriage  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  have  been 
carefully  preserved.  '  They  are  a  complete  record  of 
all  the  causes  of  separation,  and  contain  full  informa- 
tion on  every  part  of  the  subject' 

We  can  only  say  that  it  is  a  pity  Lord  Lovelace 
should  have  withheld  those  which  were  most  likely  to 
prove  his  case — for  example,  the  letters  which  Mrs. 
Leigh  wrote  to  Lady  Byron  in  the  summer  of  1816. 
The  public  have  a  right  to  demand  from  an  accuser 
the  grounds  of  his  accusation.  Lord  Lovelace  gives 
us  none.  He  bids  us  listen  to  what  he  deigns  to  tell 
us,  and  to  ask  for  nothing  more.  That  his  case  is 
built  upon  Lady  Byron's  surmises,  and  upon  no 
more  solid  foundation,  is  shown  by  the  following 
illuminating  extract  from  '  Astarte  ' : 

*  When  a  woman  is  placed  as  Lady  Byron  was,  her 
mind  works  involuntarily,  almost  unconsciously,  and 


LADY  BYRON  RESISTS  THE  LIGHT    399 

conclusions  force  their  way  into  it.  She  has  not 
meant  to  think  so  and  so,  and  she  has  thought  it ;  the 
dreadful  idea  is  repelled  then,  and  to  the  last,  with  the 
whole  force  of  her  will,  but  when  once  conceived  it 
cannot  be  banished.  The  distinctive  features  of  a  true 
hypothesis,  when  once  in  the  mind,  are  a  precise  con- 
formity to  facts  already  known,  and  an  adaptability  to 
fresh  developments,  which  allow  us  not  to  throw  it 
aside  at  pleasure.  Lady  Byron's  agony  of  doubt  could 
only  end  in  the  still  greater  agony  of  certainty  ;  but 
this  was  no  result  of  ingenuity  or  inquiry,  as  she 
sought  not  for  information.' 

If  Lady  Byron  did  not  seek  for  information  when 
she  plied  Augusta  with  questions,  and  encouraged  her 
friends  to  do  the  same,  she  must  have  derived  pleasure 
from  torturing  her  supposed  rival.     But  that  is  absurd. 

'  Women,'  says  Lord  Lovelace,  '  are  said  to  excel  in 
piecing  together  scattered  insignificant  fragments  of 
conversations  and  circumstances,  and  fitting  them  all 
into  their  right  places  amongst  what  they  know 
already,  and  thus  reconstruct  a  whole  that  is  very 
close  to  the  complete  truth.  But  Lady  Byron's  whole 
effort  was  to  resist  the  light,  or  rather  the  darkness, 
that  would  flow  into  her  mind.' 

In  her  effort  to  resist  the  light.  Lady  Byron  seems 
to  have  admirably  succeeded.  But,  in  spite  of  her 
grandson's  statement,  that  she  employed  any  great 
effort  to  resist  the  darkness  that  flowed  into  her  mind 
we  entirely  disbelieve.  We  are  rather  inclined  to 
think  that,  in  her  search  for  evidence  to  convict  Mrs. 
Leigh,  she  would  have  been  very  grateful  for  a  farthing 
rushlight. 

We  now  leave  *  Astarte  '  to  the  judgment  of  posterity, 
for  whom,  in  a  peculiarly  cruel  sense,  it  was  originally 
intended.  If  in  a  court  of  law  counsel  for  the  prose- 
cution were  to  declaim  loudly  and  frequently  about 


400  '  ASTARTE ' 

evidence  which  he  does  not — perhaps  dares  not — pro- 
duce, his  harangues  would  make  an  unfavourable  im- 
pression on  a  British  jury.  We  have  no  wish  to  speak 
ill  of  the  dead,  but,  in  justice  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  we  feel 
bound  to  say  that  the  author  of  '  Astarte,'  with  all  his 
talk  about  evidence  against  Byron  and  Augusta  Leigh, 
has  not  produced  a  scrap  of  evidence  which  would 
have  any  weight  with  an  impartial  jury  of  their 
countrymen. 

But  we  will  not  end  upon  a  jarring  note.  Let  us 
remember  that  Lord  Lovelace,  as  Ada's  son,  felt  an 
affectionate  regard  for  the  memory  of  Lady  Byron. 
It  was  his  misfortune  to  imbibe  a  false  tradition,  and, 
while  groping  his  way  through  the  darkness,  his  sole 
guide  was  a  packet  of  collected  papers  by  which  his 
grandmother  hoped  to  justify  her  conduct  in  leaving 
her  husband.  If  Lady  Byron  had  deigned  to  read 
Byron's  *  Memoirs,'  she  might  have  been  spared  those 
painful  delusions  by  which  her  mind  was  obsessed  in 
later  years.  That  she  had  ample  grounds,  in  Byron's 
extraordinary  conduct  during  the  brief  period  of  their 
intercourse,  to  separate  herself  from  him  is  not  dis- 
puted ;  but  her  premises  were  wrong,  and  her  vain 
attempt  to  justify  herself  by  unsupported  accusations 
against  Mrs.  Leigh  has  failed. 

Her  daughter  Ada,  the  mother  of  Lord  Lovelace, 
had  learnt  enough  of  the  family  history  to  come  to  the 
conclusion  (which  she  decidedly  expressed  to  Mr. 
Fonblanque)  that  the  sole  cause  of  the  separation  was 
incompatibility.  There  let  it  rest.  The  Byron  of  the 
last  phase  was  a  very  different  man  from  the  poet  of 
*  The  Dream.' 

On  the  day  that  Byron  was  buried  at  Hucknall- 
Torkard  the  great  Goethe,  in  allusion  to  a  letter  which 


I 


GOETHE'S  TRIBUTE  401 

Byron,  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  Greece,  had 
written  to  him,  says : 

'  What  emotions  of  joy  and  hope  did  not  that  paper 
once  excite  !  But  now  it  has  become,  b}^  the  premature 
death  of  its  noble  writer,  an  inestimable  relic  and  a 
source  of  unspeakable  regret ;  for  it  aggravates,  to  a 
peculiar  degree  in  me,  the  mourning  and  melancholy 
that  pervade  the  moral  and  poetic  world.  In  me,  who 
looked  forward  (after  the  success  of  his  great  efforts) 
to  the  prospect  of  being  blessed  with  the  sight  of  this 
master-spirit  of  the  age,  this  friend  so  fortunately 
acquired ;  and  of  having  to  welcome  on  his  return  the 
most  humane  of  conquerors. 

'  But  I  am  consoled  by  the  conviction  that  his 
country  will  at  once  awake,  and  shake  off,  like  a 
troubled  dream,  the  partialities,  the  prejudices,  the 
injuries,  and  the  calumnies,  with  which  he  has  been 
assailed  ;  and  that  these  will  subside  and  sink  into 
oblivion ;  and  that  she  will  at  length  acknowledge  that 
his  frailties,  whether  the  effect  of  temperament,  or  the 
defect  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived  (against  which 
even  the  best  of  mortals  wrestle  painfully),  were  only 
momentary,  fleeting,  and  transitory ;  whilst  the  im- 
perishable greatness  to  which  he  has  raised  her,  now 
and  for  ever  remains,  and  will  remain,  illimitable  in  its 
glory  and  incalculable  in  its  consequences.  Certain 
it  is  that  a  nation,  who  may  well  pride  herself  on  so 
many  great  sons,  will  place  Byron,  all  radiant  as  he  is, 
by  the  side  of  those  who  have  done  most  honour  to 
her  name.' 


With  these  just  words  it  is  fitting  to  draw  our 
subject  to  a  close.  The  poetic  fame  of  Byron  has 
passed  through  several  phases,  and  will  probably 
pass  through  another  before  his  exact  position  in  the 
poetical  hierarchy  is  determined.  But  the  world's 
interest  in  the  man  who  cheerfully  gave  his  life  to 
the  cause  of  Greek  Independence  has  not  declined. 
Eighty-five  3^ears  have  passed,  and  Time  has  gradually 

26 


402 


ASTARTE 


fulfilled  the  prophecy  which  inspiration  wrung  from 
the  anguish  of  his  heart : 

*  But  I  have  lived,  and  have  not  lived  in  vain  : 
My  mind  may  lose  its  force,  my  blood  its  fire, 
And  my  frame  perish  even  in  conquering  pain  ; 
But  there  is  that  within  me  which  shall  tire 
Torture  and  Time,  and  breathe  when  I  expire  ; 
Something  unearthly,  which  they  deem  not  of, 
Like  the  remembered  tone  of  a  mute  lyre, 
Shall  on  their  softened  spirits  sink,  and  move 
In  hearts  all  rocky  now  the  late  remorse  of  Love.' 


APPENDIX 


DR.   BRUNO'S   REPLY  TO   FLETCHER'S  STATEMENT 

The  following  remarks  appeared  in  the  Westiui)ister 
Review,  and  gave  great  annoyance  to  Dr.  Millingen, 
who  thought  that  he  had  been  accused  of  having 
caused  the  death  of  Byron  by  putting  off,  during  four 
successive  days,  the  operation  of  bleeding  : 

Mr.  Fletcher  has  omitted  to  state  that  on  the  second  day  of 
Lord  Byron's  illness  his  physician,  Dr.  Bruno,  seeing  the 
sudorific  medicines  had  no  effect,  proposed  blood-letting,  and 
that  his  lordship  refused  to  allow  it,  and  caused  Mr.  Millingen 
to  be  sent  for  in  order  to  consult  with  his  physician,  and  see  if 
the  rheumatic  fever  could  not  be  cured  without  the  loss  of  blood. 

Mr.  Millingen  approved  of  the  medicines  previously  pre- 
scribed by  Dr.  Bruno,  and  was  not  opposed  to  the  opinion  that 
bleeding  was  necessary ;  but  he  said  to  his  lordship  that  it 
might  be  deferred  till  the  next  day.  He  held  this  language  for 
three  successive  days,  while  the  other  physician  (Dr.  Bruno) 
every  day  threatened  Lord  Byron  that  he  would  die  by  his 
obstinacy  in  not  allowing  himself  to  be  bled.  His  lordship 
always  answered :  '  You  wish  to  get  the  reputation  of  curing 
my  disease,  that  is  why  you  tell  me  it  is  so  serious ;  but  I  will 
not  permit  you  to  bleed  me.' 

After  the  first  consultation  with  Mr.  Millingen,  the  domestic 
Fletcher  asked  Dr.  Bruno  how  his  lordship's  complaint  was 
going  on.  The  physician  replied  that,  if  he  would  allow  the 
bleeding,  he  would  be  cured  in  a  few  days.  But  the  surgeon 
Mr.  Millingen,  assured  Lord  Byron  from  day  to  day  that  it 
could  wait  till  to-morrow;  and  thus  four  days  slipped  away, 

403  26—2 


404  APPENDIX 

during  which  the  disease,  for  want  of  blood-letting,  grew  much 
worse.  At  length  Mr.  Millingen,  seeing  that  the  prognostica- 
tions which  Dr.  Bruno  had  made  respecting  Lord  Byron's 
malady  were  more  and  more  confirmed,  urged  the  necessity  of 
bleeding,  and  of  no  longer  delaying  it  a  moment.  This  caused 
Lord  Byron,  disgusted  at  finding  that  he  could  not  be  cured 
without  loss  of  blood,  to  say  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
doctors  did  not  understand  his  malady.  He  then  had  a  man 
sent  to  Zante  to  fetch  Dr.  Thomas.  Mr.  Fletcher  having 
mentioned  this  to  Dr.  Bruno,  the  latter  observed  that,  if  his 
lordship  would  consent  to  lose  as  much  blood  as  was  necessary, 
he  would  answer  for  his  cure ;  but  that  if  he  delayed  any 
longer,  or  did  not  entirely  follow  his  advice,  Dr.  Thomas  would 
not  arrive  in  time  :  in  fact,  when  Dr.  Thomas  was  ready  to  set 
out  from  Zante,  Lord  Byron  was  dead. 

The  pistols  and  stiletto  were  removed  from  his  lordship's 
bed — not  by  Fletcher,  but  by  the  servant  Tita,  who  was  the 
only  person  that  constantly  waited  on  Lord  Byron  in  his  illness, 
and  who  had  been  advised  to  take  this  precaution  by  Dr. 
Bruno,  the  latter  having  perceived  that  my  lord  had  moments 
of  delirium. 

Two  days  before  the  death  a  consultation  was  held  with 
three  other  doctors,  who  appeared  to  think  that  his  lordship's 
disease  was  changing  from  inflammatory  diathesis  to  languid, 
and  they  ordered  china,*  opium,  and  ammonia. 

Dr.  Bruno  opposed  this  with  the  greatest  warmth,  and 
pointed  out  to  them  that  the  symptoms  were  those,  not  of  an 
alteration  in  the  disease,  but  of  a  fever  flying  to  the  brain, 
which  was  violently  attacked  by  it ;  and  that  the  wine,  the 
china,  and  the  stimulants,  would  kill  Lord  Byron  more  speedily 
than  the  complaint  itself  could ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  by 
copious  bleedings  and  the  medicines  that  had  been  taken  before 
he  might  yet  be  saved.  The  other  physicians,  however,  were 
of  a  different  opinion  ;  and  it  was  then  that  Dr.  Bruno  declared 
to  his  colleagues  that  he  would  have  no  further  responsibility 
for  the  loss  of  Lord  Byron,  which  he  pronounced  inevitable  if 
the  china  were  given  him.  In  effect,  after  my  lord  had  taken 
the  tincture,  with  some  grains  of  carbonate  of  ammonia,  he  was 
*  Tinct.  chinas  corticis  ;  tinct.  cinchonae. 


APPENDIX  405 

seized  by  convulsions.  Soon  afterwards  they  gave  him  a  cup  of 
very  strong  decoction  of  china,  with  some  drops  of  laudanum. 
He  instantly  fell  into  a  deep  lethargic  sleep,  from  which  he 
never  rose. 

The  opening  of  the  body  discovered  the  brain  in  a  state  of 
the  highest  inflammation ;  and  all  the  six  physicians  who  were 
present  at  that  opening  were  convinced  that  my  lord  would 
have  been  saved  by  the  bleeding,  which  his  physician,  Dr. 
Bruno,  had  advised  from  the  beginning  with  the  most  pressing 
urgency  and  the  greatest  firmness. 

F.  B. 

DR.    MILLINGEN'S  ACCOUNT 

Mr,  Finlay  and  myself  called  upon  him  in  the  evening,  when 
we  found  him  lying  on  a  sofa,  complaining  of  a  slight  fever  and 
of  pains  in  the  articulations.  He  was  at  first  more  gay  than 
usual ;  but  on  a  sudden  he  became  pensive,  and,  after  remaining 
some  few  minutes  in  silence,  he  said  that  during  the  whole  day 
he  had  reflected  a  great  deal  on  a  prediction  which  had  been 
made  to  him,  when  a  boy,  by  a  famed  fortune-teller  in  Scotland. 
His  mother,  who  firmly  believed  in  cheiromancy  and  astrology, 
had  sent  for  this  person,  and  desired  him  to  inform  her  what 
would  be  the  future  destiny  of  her  son.  Having  examined 
attentively  the  palm  of  his  hand,  the  man  looked  at  him  for 
a  while  steadfastly,  and  then  with  a  solenm  voice  exclaimed : 
'  Beware  of  your  thirty-seventh  year,  my  young  lord — beware  !' 

He  had  entered  on  his  thirty-seventh  year  on  the  22nd  of 
January  ;  and  it  was  evident,  from  the  emotion  with  which  he 
related  this  circumstance,  that  the  caution  of  the  palmist  had 
produced  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind,  which  in  many  respects 
was  so  superstitious  that  we  thought  proper  to  accuse  him  of 
superstition.  '  To  say  the  truth,'  answered  his  lordship, '  I  find  it 
equally  difficult  to  know  what  to  believe  in  this  world  and  what 
not  to  believe.  There  are  as  many  plausible  reasons  for  in- 
ducing me  to  die  a  bigot  as  there  have  been  to  make  me 
hitherto  live  a  freethinker.  You  will,  I  know,  ridicule  my 
belief  in  lucky  and  unlucky  days ;  but  no  consideration  can  now 
induce  me  to  undertake  anything  either  on  a  Friday  or  a 
Sunday.      1    am   positive   it   would   terminate   unfortunately. 


406  APPENDIX 

Every  one  of  my  misfortunes — and  God  knows  I  have  had  my 
share — have  happened  to  me  on  one  of  those  days.' 

Considering  myself  on  this  occasion,  not  a  medical  man,  but 
a  visitor,  and  being  questioned  neither  by  his  physician  nor 
himself,  I  did  not  even  feel  Lord  Byron's  pulse.  I  was  in- 
formed next  morning  that  during  the  night  he  had  taken 
diaphoretic  infusions,  and  that  he  felt  himself  better.  The  next 
day  Dr.  Bruno  administered  a  purgative,  and  kept  up  its 
effects  by  a  solution  of  cream  of  tartar,  which  the  Italians  call 
'  imperial  lemonade.'  In  the  evening  the  fever  augmented, 
and  as  on  the  14th,  although  the  pains  in  the  articulations 
had  diminished,  the  feverish  symptons  were  equally  strong, 
Dr.  Bruno  strongly  recommended  him  to  be  blooded  ;  but  as 
the  patient  entertained  a  deep-rooted  prejudice  against  bleed- 
ing, his  physician  could  obtain  no  influence  whatever  over  him, 
and  his  lordship  obstinately  persevered  in  refusing  to  submit  to 
the  operation. 

On  the  15th,  towards  noon,  Fletcher  called  upon  me  and  in- 
formed me  that  his  master  desired  to  see  me,  in  order  to  con- 
sult with  Dr.  Bruno  on  the  state  of  his  health.  Dr.  Bruno 
informed  me  that  his  patient  laboured  under  a  rheumatic  fever 
— 4hat,  as  at  first  the  symptoms  had  been  of  a  mild  character, 
he  had  trusted  chiefly  to  sudorifics  ;  but  during  the  last  two 
days  the  fever  had  so  much  increased  that  he  had  repeatedly 
proposed  bleeding,  but  that  he  could  not  overcome  his  lord- 
ship's antipathy  to  that  mode  of  treatment.  Convinced,  by  an 
examination  of  the  patient,  that  bleeding  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, I  endeavoured,  as  mildly  and  as  gently  as  possible,  to 
persuade  him ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  my  caution,  his  temper  was 
so  morbidly  irritable  that  he  refused  in  a  manner  excessively 
peevish.  He  observed  that,  of  all  his  prejudices,  the  strongest 
was  against  phlebotomy.  *  Besides,'  said  his  lordship,  '  does 
not  Dr.  Reid  observe  in  his  Essays  that  less  slaughter  has  been 
efiected  by  the  warrior's  lance  than  by  the  physician's  lancet  ? 
It  is,  in  fact,  a  minute  instrument  of  mighty  mischief.'  On  my 
observing  that  this  remark  related  to  the  treatment  of  nervous 
disorders,  not  of  inflammatory  ones,  he  angrily  replied  :  '  Who 
is  nervous,  if  I  am  not  ?  Do  not  these  words,  besides,  apply 
to  my  case  ?     Drav/ing  blood  from  a  nervous  patient  is  like 


APPENDIX  407 

loosening  the  chords  of  a  musical  instrument,  the  tones  of 
which  are  already  defective  for  want  of  sufficient  tension. 
Before  I  became  ill,  you  know  yourself  how  weak  and  irritable 
I  had  become.  Bleeding,  by  increasing  this  state,  will  inevit- 
ably kill  me.  Do  with  me  whatever  else  you  please,  but  bleed 
me  you  shall  not.  I  have  had  several  inflammatory  fevers 
during  my  life,  and  at  an  age  when  I  was  much  more  robust 
and  plethoric  than  I  am  now ;  yet  I  got  through  them  without 
bleeding.     This  time  also  I  will  take  my  chance.' 

After  much  reasoning  and  entreaty,  however,  I  at  length 
succeeded  in  obtaining  a  promise  that,  should  his  fever  increase 
at  night,  he  would  allow  Bruno  to  bleed  him,  Happy  to 
inform  the  doctor  of  this  partial  victory,  I  left  the  room,  and, 
with  a  view  of  lowering  the  impetus  of  the  circulatory  system, 
and  determining  to  the  skin,  I  recommended  the  administration 
of  an  ounce  of  a  solution  of  half  a  grain  of  tartarized  antimony 
and  two  drachms  of  nitre  in  twelve  ounces  of  water. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  called  on  the  patient,  who  told  me 
that,  having  passed  a  better  night  than  he  had  expected,  he 
had  not  requested  Dr.  Bruno  to  bleed  him.  Chagrined  at  this, 
I  laid  aside  all  consideration  for  his  feelings,  and  solemnly 
assured  him  how  deeply  I  lamented  to  see  him  trifle  with  his 
life  in  this  manner.  I  told  him  that  his  pertinacious  refusal  to 
be  bled  had  caused  a  precious  opportunity  to  be  lost ;  that  a 
few  hours  of  hope  yet  remained ;  but  that,  unless  he  would 
submit  immediately  to  be  bled,  neither  Dr.  Bruno  nor  myself 
could  answer  for  the  consequences.  He  might  not  care  for 
life,  it  was  true ;  but  who  could  assure  him,  unless  he  changed 
his  resolution,  the  disease  might  not  operate  such  disorganiza- 
tion in  his  cerebral  and  nervous  system  as  entirely  to  deprive 
him  of  his  reason  ?  I  had  now  touched  the  sensible  chord,  for, 
partly  annoyed  by  our  unceasing  importunities,  and  partly 
convinced,  casting  at  us  both  the  fiercest  glance  of  vexation, 
he  threw  out  his  arm,  and  said  in  the  most  angry  tone  :  '  Come  ; 

you  are,  I  see,  a  d d  set  of  butchers.     Take  away  as  much 

blood  as  you  will,  but  have  done  with  it.' 

We  seized  the  moment,  and  drew  about  twenty  ounces.  On 
coagulating,  the  blood  presented  a  strong  buffy  coat.  Yet  the 
relief  obtained  did  not  correspond  to  the  hopes  we  had  antici- 


408  APPENDIX 

pated,  and  during  the  night  the  fever  became  stronger  than  it 
had  been  hitherto.  The  restlessness  and  agitation  increased, 
and  the  patient  spoke  several  times  in  an  incoherent  manner. 
The  next  morning  (17th)  the  bleeding  was  repeated;  for, 
although  the  rheumatic  symptoms  had  completely  disappeared, 
the  cerebral  ones  were  hourly  increasing,  and  this  continuing 
all  day,  we  opened  the  vein  for  the  third  time  in  the  afternoon. 
Cold  applications  were  from  the  beginning  constantly  kept  on 
the  head  ;  blisters  were  also  proposed.  When  on  the  point  of 
applying  them,  Lord  Byron  asked  me  whether  it  would  answer 
the  same  purpose  to  apply  both  on  the  same  leg.  Guessing 
the  motive  that  led  him  to  ask  this  question,  I  told  him  I 
would  place  them  above  the  knees,  on  the  inside  of  the  thighs. 
'  Do  so,'  said  he  ;  '  for  as  long  as  I  live  I  will  not  allow  anyone 
to  see  my  lame  foot.' 

In  spite  of  our  endeavours,  the  danger  hourly  increased  ;  the 
different  signs  of  strong  nervous  affection  succeeded  each  other 
with  surprising  rapidity  ;  twitchings  and  involuntary  motions 
of  the  tendons  began  to  manifest  themselves  in  the  night ;  and, 
more  frequently  than  before,  the  patient  muttered  to  himself 
and  talked  incoherently. 

In  the  morning  (i8th)  a  consultation  was  proposed,  to  which 
Dr.  Lucca  Vaga  and  Dr.  Freiber,  my  assistant,  were  invited. 
Our  opinions  were  divided.  Bruno  and  Lucca  proposed  having 
recourse  to  antispasmodics  and  other  remedies  employed  in 
the  last  stage  of  typhus.  Freiber  and  I  maintained  that  such 
remedies  could  only  hasten  the  fatal  termination  ;  that  nothing 
could  be  more  empirical  than  flying  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other  ;  that  if,  as  we  all  thought,  the  complaint  was  owing 
to  the  metastasis  of  rheumatic  inflammation,  the  existing 
symptoms  only  depended  on  the  rapid  and  extensive  progress 
it  had  made  in  an  organ  previously  so  weakened  and  irritable. 
Antiphlogistic  means  could  never  prove  hurtful  in  this  case ; 
they  would  become  useless  only  if  disorganization  were  already 
operated;  but  then,  when  all  hopes  were  fled,  what  means 
would  not  prove  superfluous  ? 

We  recommended  the  application  of  numerous  leeches  to  the 
temples,  behind  the  ears,  and  along  the  course  of  the  jugular 
vein,  a  large  blister  between  the  shoulders,  and  sinapisms  to  the 


I 


APPENDIX  409 

feet.  These  we  considered  to  be  the  only  means  Hkely  to 
succeed.  Dr.  Bruno,  however,  being  the  patient's  physician, 
had,  of  course,  the  casting  vote,  and  he  prepared,  in  conse- 
quence, the  antispasmodic  potion  which  he  and  Dr.  Lucca  had 
agreed  upon.  It  was  a  strong  infusion  of  valerian  with  ether, 
etc.  After  its  administration  the  convulsive  movements  and 
the  delirium  increased ;  yet,  notwithstanding  my  earnest 
representations,  a  second  dose  was  administered  half  an  hour 
after  ;  when,  after  articulating  confusedly  a  few  broken  phrases, 
our  patient  sank  into  a  comatose  sleep,  which  the  next  day 
terminated  in  death. 

Lord  Byron  expired  on  the  19th  of  April,  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  Interestingas  every  circumstance  relative  to  the  death 
of  so  celebrated  a  person  may  prove  to  some,  I  should,  never- 
theless, have  hesitated  in  obtruding  so  much  medical  detail  on 
the  patience  of  the  reader,  had  not  the  accounts  published  by 
Dr.  Bruno  in  the  Westminster  Review,  and  many  of  the  news- 
papers, rendered  it  necessary  that  I  should  disabuse  the  friends 
of  the  deceased ;  and  at  the  same  time  vindicate  my  own 
professional  character,  on  which  the  imputation  has  been  laid  of 
my  having  been  the  cause  of  Lord  Byron's  death  by  putting  off, 
during  four  successive  days,  the  operation  of  bleeding. 

I  must  first  observe  that,  not  knowing  a  syllable  of  English, 
although  present  at  the  conversation  I  had  with  Lord  Byron, 
Dr.  Bruno  could  neither  understand  the  force  of  the  language 
I  employed  to  surmount  his  lordship's  deep-rooted  prejudice 
and  aversion  for  bleeding,  nor  the  positive  refusals  he  repeatedly 
made  before  I  could  obtain  his  promise  to  consent  to  the  opera- 
tion. Yet  he  boldly  states  that  I  spoke  to  Lord  Byron  in 
a  very  undecided  manner  of  the  benefits  of  such  an  operation, 
and  that  I  even  ventured  to  recommend  procrastination ;  and 
these,  he  says,  are  the  reasons  that  induced  him  to  consent  to 
the  delay — as  ii  he  were  himself  indifferent  to  such  treatment,  or 
as  if  a  few  words  from  me  were  sufficient  to  determine  him  ! 
Conduct  like  this  it  is  not  difficult  to  appreciate :  I  shall 
therefore  forbear  abandoning  myself  to  the  indignation  such 
a  falsehood  might  naturally  excite  ;  nor  shall  I  repel  his  un- 
warrantable accusation  by  relating  the  causes  of  that  deep- 
rooted  jealousy  which  Dr.  Bruno  entertained  against  me  from 


410  APPENDIX 

the  day  he  perceived  the  preference  which  Lord  Byron  indicated 
in  favour  of  English  physicians.  This  narrow-minded,  envious 
feeling,  as  I  could  prove,  prevented  him  from  insisting  on 
immediately  calling  me,  or  other  medical  men  at  Missolonghi* 
to  a  consultation.  Had  he  done  so,  he  would  have  exonerated 
himself  from  every  responsibility  ;  but  his  vanity  made  him 
forget  the  duty  he  owed  to  his  patient,  and  even  to  himself- 
For  I  did  not  see  Lord  Byron  (medically)  till  I  was  sent  for  by 
his  lordship  himself,  without  any  participation  on  the  part  of 
Dr.  Bruno.  I  can  refute  Dr.  Bruno's  calumnies,  not  only  from 
the  testimony  of  others,  but  even  from  his  own.  For  the 
following  extract  from  the  article  published  in  the  Telegraplio 
Greco,  announcing  the  death  of  Lord  Byron,  was  at  the  request 
of  Count  Gamba  (himself  a  witness  of  whatever  took  place 
during  the  fatal  illness  of  his  friend)  composed  by  the  doctor  • 

'  Notwithstanding  the  most  urgent  entreaties  and  representa- 
tions of  the  imminent  danger  attending  his  complaint  made  to 
him  from  the  onset  of  his  illness,  both  by  his  private  physician 
and  the  medical  man  sent  by  the  Greek  Committee,  it  was 
impossible  to  surmount  the  great  aversion  and  prejudice  he 
entertained  against  bleeding,  although  he  lay  under  imperious 
want  of  it '  (Vide  Telegrapho  Greco,  il  di  24  Aprile,  1824). 

As  to  the  assertion  confidently  made  by  Dr.  Bruno,  that,  had 
his  patient  submitted  at  the  onset  of  his  malady  to  phlebotomy, 
he  would  have  infallibly  recovered,  I  believe  every  medical 
man  who  maturely  considers  the  subject  will  be  led  to  esteem 
this  assertion  as  being  founded  rather  on  presumption  than  on 
reason.  Positive  language,  which  is  in  general  so  misplaced  in 
medical  science,  becomes  in  the  present  case  even  ridiculous ; 
for,  if  different  authors  be  consulted,  it  will  appear  that  the  very 
remedy  which  is  proclaimed  by  some  as  the  anchor  of  salvation, 
is  by  others  condemned  as  the  instrument  of  ruin.  Bleeding 
(as  many  will  be  found  to  assert)  favours  metastasis  in  rheu- 
matic fevers  ;  and,  in  confirmation  of  this  opinion,  they  will 
remark  that  in  this  case,  as  soon  as  the  lancet  was  employed, 
the  cerebral  symptoms  manifested  themselves  on  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  rheumatic  ;  while  those  who  incline  to  Dr.  Reid's 
and  Dr.  Heberden's  opinion  will  observe  that,  after  each 
successive  phlebotomy,  the  cerebral  symptoms  not  only  did  not 


eft 


APPENDIX  411 

remain  at  the  same  degree,  but  that  they  hourly  went  on 
increasing.  In  this  dilemmatic  position  it  is  evident  that,  what- 
ever treatment  might  have  been  adopted,  detractors  could  not 
fail  to  have  some  grounds  for  laying  the  blame  on  the  medical 
attendants.  The  more  I  consider  this  difficult  question,  how- 
ever, the  more  I  feel  convinced  that,  whatsoever  method  of  cure 
had  been  adopted,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  a  fatal 
termination  was  inevitable ;  and  here  I  may  be  permitted  to 
observe,  that  it  must  have  been  the  lot  of  every  medical  man 
to  observe  how  frequently  the  fear  of  death  produces  it,  and 
how  seldom  a  patient,  who  persuades  himself  that  he  must  die,  j  ^vvfi.*^ , 
is  mistaken.  The  prediction  of  the  Scotch  fortune-teller  was 
ever  present  to  Lord  Byron,  and,  like  an  insidious  poison, 
destroyed  that  moral  energy  which  is  so  useful  to  keep  up 
the  patient  in  dangerous  complaints.  '  Did  I  not  tell  you,'  said 
he  repeatedly  to  me,  '  that  I  should  die  at  thirty-seven  ?' 

There  is  an  entry  in  Millingen's  '  Memoirs  of  Greece' 
which  has  not  received  the  attention  it  deserves — 
namely,  a  request  made  by  Byron  on  the  day  before 
his  death.  It  is  given  by  Millingen  in  the  following 
words  : 

*  One  request  let  me  make  to  you.  Let  not  my  body 
be  hacked,  or  be  sent  to  England.  Here  let  my  bones 
moulder.  Lay  me  in  the  first  corner  without  pomp  or 
nonsense.'    '■      '       *  ■■ '     ' 

After  Byron's  death  Millingen  informed  Gamba  of 
this  request,  but  it  was  thought  that  it  would  be  a 
sacrilege  to  leave  his  remains  in  a  place  '  where  they 
might  some  day  become  the  sport  of  insulting  bar- 
barians.' 


INDEX 


Adam,  Sir  F.,  High  Commis- 
sioner of  the  Ionian  islands  :  his 
tribute  to  Byron's  character,  202 

Agraifa,  the  scene  of  Cariasca- 
chi's  depredations,  162 

Allegra,ByTon's  natural  daughter : 
her  life  and  death,  22  ;  Byron's 
feelings  for,  35 

Americans,  Byron  on,  131 

Anatoliko,  Turkish  abandonment 
of,  68 

Argostoli,  BjTon  arrives  at,  63 

Astarfe,  by  Earl  of  Lovelace.  See 
Lovelace 

Augusta,  Stanzas  and  Epistle  to, 
29O'  324-  364 

Barnard,  Lady  Anne,  on  Byron's 
married  life,  329  ct  seq. 

Beecher  Stowe  scandals,  318,  326 

Bentham,  Jeremy,  and  Byron, 
108  et  scq.,  119  ;  amusing  anec- 
dote about,  126  et  scq. 

Berry,  Messrs.,  Byron's  wine 
merchants:  register  of  Byron's 
weight,  19 

Bible,  The,  Scott's  hnes  on,  73 

Blackwood's  Magazine  on  Byron, 
50,  100,  315,  316 

Blaquiere,  Captain,  48  ;  sails  for 
England,  64 ;  describes  the 
return  of  Hatajeto  her  parents, 
137  ;  eulogy  on  Byron,  176, 
if  77,  199  ct  seq. 

Blessington,  Lady,  Conversations  of 
Lord  Byron :  describes  Byron,  5, 
6  ;  character  and  reminiscences 
of  BjTon,  34  et  scq.,  40,  41 

Bolivar,  The,  Byron's  j^acht,  sold  to 
Lord  Blessington,  32 ;  her  end,  33 


Botzari,  Marco,  48  ;  his  death,  66 

Bowring,  Mr.,  hon.  secretary  to 
the  Greek  Committee,  126 

Bride  of  Abydos,  The  :  what  the 
poem  reveals,  240,  259,  260, 262, 
265 

Brougham,  Mr.,  spreads  the 
scandal,  340 

Broughton,  Lord  (see  Hobhouse. 
John  Cam),  Recollections  of  a 
Long  Life,  201,  247  n.,  339  n., 
340  n.,  359  n. 

Browne,  Hamilton,  goes  with 
Byron  to  Greece,  47,  48  ; 
Byron's  illness,  62  ;  arrives  at 
Cephalonia,  67 

Bruno,  Dr.,  travels  with  Byron  to 
Greece,  47, 48  ;  Byron's  illness, 
59,  62  ;  medical  discussions 
with  Dr.  Stravolemo,  79  ;  his 
medical  treatment  of  Byron, 
124,  163,  166,  168,  169,  193  et 
seq.;  accompanies  B3Ton's  body 
to  England,  202  ;  reply  to 
Fletcher's  statement,  403  etseq.; 
Dr.  Millingen  on,  405  et  seq. 

Brydges,  Sir  Egerton,  291 

Burdett,  Sir  Francis,  11,  208 

B}Ton,  George  Gordon  (sixth 
Lord) :  arrival  and  habits  of  life 
at  Pisa,  3,  II,  20-22  ;  personal 
appearance,  4-7  ;  evidence  as 
to  his  lameness,  7,  8,  191  ;  por- 
traits of,  9,  10 ;  inherits  the 
Noel  property  on  death  of 
Lady  Noel,  10,  11  ;  the  society 
and  influence  of  the  Shelleys, 
IX  et  seq. ;  discussion  on  the 
most  perfect  ode  produced,  11^ 
12,   58  ;    religion,    13    ct  seq.  • 


412 


INDEX 


413 


habit  of  vaunting  his  vices,  17, 
18,78;  abstinence,  18;  weight 
register,  19  ;  fracas  at  Pisa  and 
Montenero,  21,  22  ;  his  natural 
daughter  Allegra,  22  d  seq. ; 
effect  of  Allegra's  death  on,  24 ; 
dealings  with  Leigh  Hunt,  26 
et  scq. ;  death  of  Shelley  and 
Williams,  29,  30  ;  refuses  Shel- 
ley's legacy  of  ;({^2,ooo,  32 ; 
leaves  Pisa  with  Countess  Guic- 
cioH  and  goes  to  Albaro,  32  ; 
sells  his  yacht  Tlic  Bolwar,  33  ; 
feelings  on  his  own  position, 
and  desire  for  reconciliation 
with  his  wife,  33  d  scq. ;  admi- 
ration for  Sir  Walter  Scott  and 
Shelley,  35  ;  liaison  with  Coun- 
tess Guiccioli,  37,  379,  380 ; 
conduct  after  separation  from 
his  wife,  39  d  scq. ;  Lady  Bles- 
sington  on,  40  ;  anomalies,  41  ; 
opinion  of  his  wife,  42  ;  ad- 
miration for  his  sister,  42  ; 
affection  for  his  child  Ada,  43  ; 
craving  for  celebrity,  45  ;  takes 
up  the  Greek  cause,  46  ;  travels 
to  Greece  with  money,  arms, 
and  retinue,  47  ;  arrives  at 
Argostoli,  47,  65 ;  practical 
sympathy,  48,  67  ;  an  interest- 
ing interview  with,  48  d  scq.  ; 
visits  the  Fonuiain  of  Ardhiisa, 
51-53  ;  attacks  of  illness,  51,52, 
59,  62,  63  ;  excursion  to  the 
Scliool  of  Homer,  54-57  ;  on  the 
IVavcrlcy  Novels,  57  ;  at  Vathi, 
58  ;  admiration  for  Southey, 
Gifford,  and  others,  59,  60 ; 
reception  at  Santa  Eufemia, 
60 ;  on  actors,  61  ;  journey 
over  the  Black  Mountain  to 
Argostoli,  63  ;  action  with  regard 
to  dissensions  in  Greece,  64  et 
seq. ;  resides  at  Metaxata,  67  ; 
advances  ;!{^4,ooo  to  the  Greeks, 
67  ei  seq.  ;  appeal  to  the  Greek 
nation,  69  ;  motives  in  coming 
to  Greece,  70,  71,  94;  discus- 
sions with  Dr.  Kennedy  on  re- 
ligion, 72  t'/sf  9.;  favourite  books, 
79, 82, 100 ;  helps  to  rescue  work- 
men, 80  ;  sails  with  money  from 
Zante  for  Missolonghi  to  join 


and  Iieip  the  Greek  fleet,  81. 
82  ;  adventurous  voyage,  83-86  ; 
reception  at  Missolonghi,  88  ; 
releases  Turkish  prisoners,  89, 
90,  132  ;  preparations  against 
Lepanto,  91  ;  takes  50x3  Suliotes 
into  his  pay,  91  ;  and  Major 
Parry,  92  d  scq.,  143  ;  Turks 
blockade  Missolonghi,  96  ; 
verses  on  his  birthday,  96  ; 
presentiment  that  he  "would 
never  leave  Greece,  and  his 
intentions,  97  ;  some  reminis- 
cences of,  98  d  scq.  ;  wonderful 
memory,  102  ;  a  popular  idol 
in  Greece,  105  ;  relations  with 
Mavrocordato,  106,  116;  and 
Colonel  Stanhope,  107  d  seq., 
120, 121, 122  ;  Jeremy  Hentham, 
108  ;  dealings  with  the  press, 
112,  113  ;  views  of  the  politics 
of  Greece,  114  ;  effective  mode 
of  reproof,  117  ;  on  the  useless 
supplies  sent  by  the  London 
Committee,  119  ;  abandonment 
of  the  Lepanto  project,  121  ; 
illness  and  feelings  as  to  death, 
122-125  ;  dismisses  the  Suhotes, 
125,  142 ;  anecdote  of  /erry 
BcntJiavi's  Cruise,  126  d  seq. ; 
interest  in  the  working  classes, 
130  ;  his  politics,  131 ;  on  Amer- 
ica, 131  ;  the  story  of  Hataj^, 
133  cf  seq.;  Turkish  brig  ashore, 
139  ;  hrmness  and  tact  in  difli- 
culties,  140,  156  c(  scq.;  de- 
sertion of  the  English  artificers, 
142,  143  ;  improvement  in  his 
health,  144  ;  favourite  dogs, 
145,  227  ;  daily  life,  145,  147  ; 
the  unhealthy  state  of  Misso- 
longhi, 146 ;  bodyguard,  146 ; 
indisposition  of,  148  ;  peasants' 
respect  for,  149  ;  no  desire  for 
selt -aggrandizement  in  Greece, 
151  d  scq.  ;  Greek  loan  raised 
in  London,  156  ;  receives  the 
freedom  of  Missolonghi,  157  ; 
Cariascachi's  treachery,  159  d 
seq. ;  detailed  accounts  of  his 
last  illness,  and  death,  163  d 
seq.,  192  et  seq.,  403  et  seq. ; 
eulogies  on,  174  d  scq.,  201, 
205  ;    Trelawny's   opinion    of, 


414 


INDEX 


178  et  seq.  ;  effect  of  his  death 
on  Greece,  183  ei  seq.,  201  ;  the 
funeral  oration,  185  ;  body  con- 
veyed to  Zante,  and  thence  to 
England,  198  ei  seq.  ;  arrival  of 
the  body  in  England,  202-204  > 
character  sketch  by  Colonel 
Stanhope,  205  ct  seq.  ;  funeral 
procession  and  burial  at 
Hucknall  -  Torkard,  215,  216  ; 
what  the  poems  reveal,  219 
ei  seq. ;  infatuation  for  Mary 
Chaworth,  220  ei  seq.  ;  mystery 
of  the  Thvrza  poems,  221  ei 
seq. ;  romantic  attachment  to 
Edleston,  222,  223,  230,  231  ; 
anecdote  of  Mary  Chaworth's 
gift,  224 ;  his  mother's  death, 
227;  on  death  of  his  friends,  227, 
228;  Childe  Harold,  233,  236, 
238, 287, 363  ;  and  the  Hon.  Mrs. 
George  Lamb,  235  ;  disbelief 
in  existence  after  death,  239, 
240  ;  in  great  dejection  writes 
The  Giaour,  The  Bride  of  A  bydos, 
and  Tlie  Corsair,  240,  256  ci 
seq.,  277,  278,  281,  303  ;  and 
Lady  Webster,  240,  241,  259  ; 
persuaded  to  give  up  going 
abroad,  241,  242  ;  what  he 
wishes  the  world  to  believe 
about  Mary  Chaworth,  244, 
245  ;  their  meetings  after  her 
separation  from  her  husband, 
246,  258  ei  seq. ;  remorse  and 
parting,  249 ;  suspense  and 
fear  preceding  the  birth  of 
Medora,  253,  260 ;  reason  of 
separation  from  his  wife,  255  ; 
reproaches  Mary  Chaworth, 
256,  257  ;  device  for  a  seal, 
261,  267  ;  remarkable  letter  to 
Moore,  266  ;  birth  of  Medora, 
268 ;  Lara,  268,  271,  273  ; 
partly  the  cause  of  the  scandal 
about  Mrs.  Leigh,  270  ;  effect 
of  Miss  Milbanke's  first  refusal, 
271  eiscq.;  Harmodia,  274,  275  ; 
Don  Juan,  276,  304  ei  seq. ; 
Hebrew  Melodies,  277  ;  Herod's 
Lament  for  Mariamne,  278  ;  his 
significant  communication  to 
his  lawyer,  279  ;  verses  to  Mary 
Chaworth,   280,   281  ;   fear    of 


disgrace,  281  ;  important  cor- 
respondence with  Murray,  282, 
283  ;  last  meeting  with  Mary 
Chaworth,  283  ;  how  the  secret 
was  kept,  285  ;  verses  to  his 
sister,   286,   287 ;    The  Dream, 

289,  290;   Stanzas  to  Augusta, 

290,  364 ;  Manfred,  291  ei 
seq.,  328,  364  ;  his  treatment  of 
the  scandal,  291,  317,  320  ; 
The  Duel,  293,  298 ;  The  Lament 
of  Tasso,  297 ;  Stanzas  to  the 
Po,  298  et  seq.,  370 ;  Last  Words 
on  Greece,  311  ;  on  his  separa- 
tion from  his  wife,  315  et  seq. ; 
Mrs.  Leigh's  so-called  confes- 
sion, 319  et  seq.,  356  et  seq., 
368  ;  Epistle  to  Augusta,  324  ; 
story  of  his  married  life, 
329  et  seq. ;  Sir  Ralph  Noel 
requires  a  separation,  339 ; 
Lady  Jersey's  party,  352  ;  parts 
for  the  last  time  from  his 
sister,  352,  366,  392  ;  consents 
to  separation  from  his  wife, 
352  ;  Lady  Byron's  written 
statement  of  complaints,  353  ; 
letter  to  Lady  Byron  as  to 
his  will,  355  ;  Moore's  life  of, 
365  et  seq. ;  writes  to  Moore 
about  the  scandal,  367  ;  letter 
supposed  to  be  written  to  Mary 
Chaworth,  368  et  seq.  ;  letter 
compared  with  one  to  his 
sister,  372 ;  writes  to  Lady 
Byi^on  as  to  the  memoir  of  his 
life,  382  ;  asks  Lady  Byron  to 
make  provision  for  Mrs.  Leigh's 
children,  385,  388  ;  Goethe  on, 
400,  401 

Byron,  Lord :  Letters  and  Journals 
of,  by  Rowland  Prothero,  70  n., 
256  n.,  260  n.  ;  Life  of,  by  Tom 
Moore,  365  ;  Reminiscences  of, 
by  G.  Finlay,  201  ;  Sketch  of 
by  Colonel  Stanhope,  201 

Byron,  Captain  George  (after- 
wards seventh  Lord),  337,  338 

Byron,  Hon.  Augusta.  See  Leigh, 
Hon.  Mrs.  Augusta 

Byron,  Hon.  Augusta  Ada  (after- 
wards Lady  King  and  Countess 
of  Lovelace),  Byron's  daughter  : 
separation  from  her  father,  43, 


INDEX 


415 


44,  288  ;  Hobhouse's  opinion 
of,  206,  207  ;  her  health,  363 
BjTon,  Lady  (formerly  Miss 
Milbanke) :  property  and  settle- 
ments on  marriage,  10 ;  married 
life,  36,  329  et  scq. ;  her  hus- 
band's desire  for  reconciliation, 
36,  46,  206  ;  on  Byron's  re- 
ligion, 77,  78 ;  the  result  of 
first  refusal  of  Byron,  206,  272  ; 
//  /  am  not  happy,  it  will  be 
my  own  fault,  216  ;  on  Byron's 
poetry,  219  ;  on  his  indiscreet 
confidences,  270  ;  her  conduct 
after  the  birth  of  Medora,  285, 
289,  321  d  seq.  ;  interview  with 
Mrs.  Leigh  at  Reigate,  324 ; 
Mrs.  Leigh's  long  visit  to,  336  ; 
birth  of  a  daughter,  and  her 
husband's  treatment,  337 ;  steps 
for    a    separation   talcen,   338, 

34i>  351.  352,  357>  358  ;  her 
treatment  of  the  abstracted 
letters,  340,  357  ;  attempts  to 
extract  a  confession  from  Mrs. 
Leigh,  322,  324,  341,  357, 
361  et  scq. ;  letters  to  Mrs. 
Leigh, 342, 343, 357;  Hodgson's 
appeal  to,  346  ci  scq. ;  text  of 
the  signed  statement  of  her 
conduct,  353  ct  seq.  ;  Colonel 
Doyle's  advice,  360  ;  her  hus- 
band's letter  to  Mary  Chaworth, 
368  et  scq. ;  and  the  prospects 
of  Mrs.  Leigh's  children,  380, 
385  ;  confides  in  Mrs.  Villiers, 
381  ;  letter  from  Byron,  382  ; 
the  weakness  of  her  position, 
383,  384  ;  Cockburn's  opinion 
of,  387  ;  Lord  Lovelace  on,  389 
et  scq. 

Campbell,  Dr.,  Presbyterian 
divine,  55 

Campbell,  Thomas,  Battle  of  tlic 
Baltic,  60 

Cariascachi,  a  Greek  chieftain, 
his  treachery,  159  et  seq. 

Chaworth,  Mary  (afterwards  Mrs. 
John  Musters) :  Byron's  infatua- 
tion for,  and  references  in  his 
poems  to,  220  et  seq. ;  unhappy 
married  life  and  separation, 
243  et  scq. ;  weakness  and  re- 


pentance, 245  ct  scq.;  break- 
down of  health,  and  recon- 
ciliation with  her  husband,  251 ; 
describes  her  own  character, 
252  ;  birth  of  Medora,  254, 
268  ;  how  the  secret  was  kept 
by  Mrs.  Leigh,  255,  285,  287, 
317,  321,  362  et  scq. ;  letters  to 
Byron,  267,  368  ct  scq.;  last 
parting  with  Byron,  283 

Childc  Harold,  what  the  poem 
reveals,  228,  229,  232  et  scq., 
287,  363 

Clairmont,  Claire :  her  anxiety 
about  her  daughter  Allegra, 
22,  23  ;  her  conduct  to  Byron, 

24.25 
Clare,  Lord,  and  Byron,  208 
Clermont,    Mrs.,    337 ;    her    ab- 
straction   of     Byron's    letters, 

340  et  scq.,  378 
Cockburn,   Sir   Alexander,  Lord 

Chief  Justice,  and  the   Byron 

mystery,  358  ;    his  opinion  of 

Lady  Byron,  387 
Coleridge,    Ernest    Hartley,    on 

identity  of  Byron's  infatuation, 

233, 240,  260 
Colocotroni,  one  of  the  turbulent 

capitani,  153 
Con gr eve  rockets,  92,  93 
Corsair,    The,    what     the    poem 

reveals,  240,  262  et  seq.,  277,  279 

Dacre,  Lord,  11 

Davies,  Scrope  B.,  98,  352  ; 
Byron's  letter  to,  227 

Don  Juan,  what  the  poem  re- 
veals, 219,  276,  304  et  scq. 

Dowden,  Professor,  Life  of  Shelley : 
on  Byron,  13  ;  the  death  of 
Allegra,  23 

Doyle,  Colonel  PYancis  :  con- 
sulted by  Lady  Byron  as  to  a 
separation,  338 ;  signs  Lady 
Byron's  statement  of  her  con- 
duct, 355  ;  advises  Lady  Byron 
to  obtain  a  confession  from 
Mrs.  Leigh,  360,  361,  397 

Dragomestri,  Byron's  visit  to,  85 

Dream,  The,  what  the  poem  re- 
veals, 289,  290 

Duel,  The,  the  poem's  application 
to  Mary  Chaworth,  298 


4i6 


INDEX 


Edleston,  a  chorister  at  Cam- 
bridge :  Byron  saves  his  life 
and  forms  a  romantic  attach- 
ment to,  222  ;  his  death,  230, 
231 

Elphinstone,  Miss  Mercer,  and 
Byron,  311 

Fenton,  Captain,  180 

Finlay,  George,  History  of  Greece : 
the  siege  of  Missolonghi,  yo  ; 
Byron's  mode  of  hfe  at  Misso- 
longhi, 98  et  seq.,  148 ;  on 
Byron,  176 ;  Reminiscences  of 
Byron,  201 ;  Byron's  last  ill- 
ness, 405 

Fletcher,  Byron's  valet :  Byron's 
last  ride,  164  ;  ignorance  of  the 
doctors,  165,  166  ;  Byron's  last 
illness  and  death,  170, 171,  252  ; 
his  statement,  192  et  seq. ;  ac- 
companies Byron's  body  to 
England,  202  ;  Dr.  Bruno's 
reply  to  the  statement,  403 
et  seq.;  Dr.  Millingen's  account 
of  Byron's  last  illness,  405  et  seq. 

Florida,  the  brig,  brings  the  loan 
to  Greece,  and  conveys  back 
Byron's  body,  199  et  seq. 

Freiber,  Dr.,  German  physician, 
attends  Byron,  169 

Gamba,  Count  Pietro  :  on  Byron's 
religious  opinions,  16,  17 ; 
fracas  at  Pisa,  20 ;  goes  to 
Albaro,  32  ;  travels  v^ith  Byron 
to  Greece,  47,  48  ;  on  Byron's 
perseverance  and  discernment, 
65  ;  on  Byron's  favourite  read- 
ing, 79  ;  Byron's  practical 
sympathy,  80 ;  accompanies 
Byron  to  Missolonghi,  83  ; 
taken  prisoner  by  the  Turks, 
84 ;  release  and  arrival  at 
Missolonghi,  85  ;  the  General 
Assembly  at  Missolonghi,  88  ; 
Byron's  interview  with  the  two 
privateer  sailors,  91  ;  becomes 
editor  of  the  Greek  Telegraph, 
114;  By);on's  illness,  121,  143, 
148,  163  et  seq. ;  arrest  of 
English  officers,  157  ;  Byron's 
funeral,  184;  conveys  Byron's 
body  to  Zante,  198 


Gamba,  Count  Ruggiero,  Byron's 
neighbour  at  Pisa,  3 ;  leaves 
Pisa  and  goes  to  Montenero,  21 ; 
ordered  to  leave  Montenero, 
22 ;  goes  to  Albaro,  32 ;  and 
Byron,  212 

Gamba,  Teresa.  See  Guiccioli, 
Countess 

Gell,  Sir  William,  his  writings, 
100,  loi  n. 

George  IV.  makes  '  equivoca- 
tion '  the  fashion,  17,  18  ;  and 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  53 

Giaour,  The,  what  the  poem 
reveals,  240,  256,  257,  265 

Gifford,  William,  Byron's  opinion 
of,  51,  60 

Greece :  Byron  sails  for,  47 ; 
state  of  the  country  and  army, 
64,  87  et  seq.,  118,  180;  Byron 
advances  ;^4,ooo,  67 ;  Byron's 
appeal  to  the  nation,  69,  70 ; 
preparations  against  Lepanto, 
91  ;  honours  offered  to  Byron, 
151,  152  ;  Congress  at  Salona, 
153 ;  Greek  loan  raised  in 
London,  156  ;  effect  of  Byron's 
death  on,  175  et  seq. 

Greece,  History  of  by  G.  Finlay, 
70;  by  Mitford,  100 

Greek  Cltronicle:  Byron's  support, 
108;  suppression  of,  112,  113 

Greek  Telegraph,  103,  113 

Guiccioli,  Countess,  daughter 
of  Count  Ruggiero  Gamba : 
Byron's  neighbour  at  Pisa,  3, 
4,  20 ;  describes  Byron,  7  et 
seq. ;  on  the  characters  of 
Shelley  and  Byron,  14,  15  ;  on 
Byron's  conduct  towards 
Allegra,  23 ;  on  Byron's  re- 
ligion, 74,  78 ;  anecdote  about 
Mary  Chaworth's  ring,  224 ; 
Lady  of  the  Land,  298,  301,  370  ; 
and  Mrs.  Leigh,  379 

Hancock,    Charles,     Byron's 

banker,  82 
Hanson,  John,  Byron's  solicitor, 

241.  34S>  346 
Harinodia,  274,  275 
Hataj^,  Byron's  kindness  to,  133 

et  seq. 
Hay,  Captain,  fracas  at  Pisa,  20, 21 


INDEX 


417 


Hebrew  Melodies,  277 

Hercules,  the,  an  English  brig  : 
Byron  and  his  suite  sail  to 
Greece  in  it,  47  ;  Byron  lives  on 
board,  64,  65 

Herod's  Lament  for  Mariamne,  278 

Hesketh,  Mr.,  158,  159 

Hey  wood.  Sergeant,  consulted 
by  Lady  Byron,  338 

Hobhouse,  John  Cam  (afterwards 
Lord  Broughton)  :  and  Byron, 
35 ;  persuades  Byron  to  burn 
his  journal,  102  ;  destroys  one 
of  Byron's  poems,  208 ;  Byron's 
funeral,  215,  216  ;  and  Lady 
Byron,  2 16,  320  ;  life-long  friend 
of  Mrs.  Leigh,  319.  See  also 
Broughton,  Lord 

Hodgson,  captain  of  the  Florida, 
203 

Hodgson,  Rev.  Francis  :  con- 
sulted by  Mrs.  Leigh,  344  et  scq.; 
appeals  to  Lady  Byron,  346 
et  seq. 

Hodgson,  Rev.  F.,  Memoir  of,  73  n. 

Holmes,  Mr.  James,  his  portrait 
of  Byron,  9 

Hours  of  Idleness,  what  the  poem 
reveals,  220 

Hucknall-Torkard,  Byron's  burial 
place,  44 

Humphreys,  Captain,  on  state  of 
Greece,  180 

Hunt,  Sir  Aubrey  de  Vere,  102 

Hunt,  Leigh:  the  story  of  his 
literar}'  and  money  relations 
with  Byron,  26  et  seq.;  Byron's 
opinion  of,  31 

Ireland,  Dr.,  Dean  of  West- 
minster, refuses  burial  of  Byron 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  203 

Jersey,  Countess  of,  her  party  in 
honour  of  Byron,  352 

Kean,  Edmund,    actor,   Byron's 

opinion  of,  61 
Kemble,    John,    actor,     Byron's 

opinion  of,  61 
Kennedy,  Dr.,  Scottish   medical 

man  :  tries  to  '  convert '  Byron, 

72   et  scq. ;  and  Hataje,   136 ; 

Lady  Byron  on,  77 


King,   Lady.     See   Byron,    Hon. 

Augusta  Ada 
Kinnaird,     the     Hon.     Douglas, 

Byron's  opinion  of,  208 
Knox,  Captain,  51 
Knox,  Mrs.,  50,  54 

Lamb,    Hon.  Mrs.   George,  and 

Byron,  235 
Lamb,   Lady  Caroline,    spreads 

the   Byron   scandal,   270,  317, 

340.  390 
Lambro,  a  Suliote  chief,  156,  164 
Lara,  what  the  poem  reveals,  268, 

271,  273 
Leigh,  Hon.  Mrs.  Augusta,  half- 
sister  of  Lord  Byron :  influence 
over  her  brother,  42,  73,  245, 
261  ;    and    his    poetry,     103 ; 
wishes  him  to  go  abroad,  242  ; 
first  introduction  to,  and  close 
intimacy  with,  Mary  Chawortli, 
250 ;  loyalty  to  her  brother  and 
Mary  Chaworth,  255,  287,  317, 
321 ;  letters  from  lier  brother 
about    Mary    Chaworth,    258, 
267,   268 ;    simulated    confine- 
ment and  convalescence,  269 ; 
her    brother's    conduct    gives 
colour    to    the    scandal,    270, 
279,  285  ;   letters  to   Hodgson 
on  the  secret,  272,  344  et  scq.  ; 
spends  a  month  at  Newstead 
with  her  brother,  279 ;  the  diffi- 
culties of  keeping  the  secret, 
285,  317,  362  et  scq.;  lines  in 
Childe  Harold  referring  to,  287 ; 
the  so-called  confession,  289, 
322,  324,  325,  341,  357,  361  ct 
scq.;  Stanzas  to  Augusta,  290, 
364 ;  Lord  Lovelace's  opinion 
of  her  character,  294,  295  ;  the 
accusation  dealt  with  in  detail, 
318  £/  scq.;  Lord  Stanhope  and 
Frances,  Lady  Shelley  on,  318 ; 
the  story  of  her  life,  319 ;  Hob- 
house's  advice  to,  320 ;  difficult 
position     with     Lady    Byron, 
321,   341,    362,   367 ;    her  pre- 
dicament owing  to  the  adop- 
tion of   Medora,  322 ;    Epistle 
to    Augusta,    324  ;    letters    to 
Hodgson    on     her     brother's 
marriage,  332  ct  seq.;  a  long 

27 


4i8 


INDEX 


visit  to  her  brother  and  Lady 
Byron,  336  ;  Lady  Byron's  feel- 
ings towards  her,  336,  337,  342, 
343)  360 ;  Lady  Byron's  confine- 
ment, 337 ;  Mrs.  Clermont's 
treachery,  341 ;  Lady  Jersey's 
party,  352  ;  parts  for  ever  from 
her  brother,  352  ;  Lady  Byron's 
written  statement,  353  et  seq.; 
letters  to  Hodgson  on  her 
brother,  362  ;  her  Une  of  con- 
duct to  Lady  B3Ton,  362  ci  seq.  ; 
Moore  on  Byron's  feelings 
towards  her,  366  ;  pretends 
that  her  brother's  letter  to 
Mary  Chaworth  was  written 
to  herself,  368  et  seq. ;  a  genu- 
ine letter,  372  ;  reply  to  Lady 
Byron's  advice,  375  et  seq.;  her 
children's  prospects  discussed 
with  Lad}'  Byron,  380,  385 ; 
Lady  Byron's  request,  380 ; 
Lord  Lovelace  on,  389  et  seq. 
Lepanto,     preparations    against. 

Liberal,  The,  its  unsuccessful 
career,  31,  32 

Lion,  Byron's  favourite  dog,  145, 
146 

Londos,  General  Andrea,  and 
Byron,  155 

Lovelace,  Earl  of,  Astarte  : 
Byron's  Thyrza,  234  n. ;  accusa- 
tions against  Mrs.  Leigh,  249, 
269  et  seq.,  287,  288,  318,  321, 
322,  338,  34i>  362,  366  et  seq., 
368  et  seq.,  385  et  seq.,  390 ; 
describes  Mrs.  Leigh's  char- 
acter, 294  ;  Manfred,  the  key 
of  the  mystery,  326  et  seq.,  364 ; 
Byron's  mutability,  339  ;  Lady 
Byron's  written  statement,  353 
et  seq.;  important  letters  from 
Byron,  368  et  seq.,  385,  386 ; 
and  Lady  Byron,  387 

Lushington,  Dr. :  advises  Lady 
Byron,  338,  351,  352,  357,  358, 
383, 387 ;  his  opinion  on  Byron's 
letters  abstracted  by  Mrs.  Cler- 
mont, 341  ;  signs  Lady  Byron's 
statement,  353  et  seq. 

Magdalen,  a  fragment,  269 

Maitland,  Sir  Thomas,  High 
Commissioner   of    the    Ionian 


Islands,  52,  61  ;  character  and 
death,  115,  116 

Mafifred,  the  supposed  key  to 
the  mystery,  291  et  seq.,  328,  364 

Marino  Faliero,  100 

Marshall,  Mrs.  Julian,  Life  and 
Letters  of  Mary  Wollstonecraft 
Shelley,  178,  180 

Masi,  Sergeant-Major,  fracas  at 
Pisa,  20,  21 

Matthews,  Charles  Skinner,  one 
of  Byron's  best  friends,  his 
death,  227 

Mavrocordato,  Prince,  Governor- 
General  of  Western  Greece  : 
and  Byron,  66,  68,  70,  202 ; 
brings  the  Greek  fleet  to  Mis- 
solonghi,  81  ;  Byron's  arrival 
at  Missolonghi,  85  ;  B3Ton's 
interview  with  two  privateer 
sailors,  91  ;  his  jealousy,  105, 
106  ;  infraction  of  neutrality  in 
Ithaca,  115  ;  Byron's  opinion 
of,  116  ;  opposition  by  Colonel 
Stanhope,  119,  153  ;  and  Odys- 
seus, 153  et  seq.;  Byron's  last 
illness  and  death,  164  et  seq.; 
effect  of  Byron's  death  on, 
177,  202  ;  Trelawny's  opinion 
of,  179,  180 ;  his  efforts  for 
Greece,  181  ;  issues  a  procla- 
mation on  Byron's  death,  183, 
184 

Medora,  birth  of,  254,  268  ;  Childe 
Harold,  288;  adoption  by  Mrs. 
Leigh,  322 

Medwin,   Captain   Thomas  :   his 

description  of  Byron,  4,  6,  11  ; 

on    Byron's   life   at    Pisa,   20 ; 

The  Angler  in  Wales,  33  n. 

Melbourne,    Lady,  persuades 

Byron  not  to  go  abroad,  242 
Metaxata,  B3T0n's  residence  at, 

65.79 

Meyer,  Jean  Jacques,  editor  of 
the  Greek  Chronicle,  112 

Milbanke,  Miss.  See  Byron, 
Lady 

Milbanke,  Sir  Ralph,  his  prop- 
erty, 10 

Millingen,  Dr. :  on  Byron's  char- 
acter, 95  ;  on  Parry,  96  ;  Byron 
a  favourite  in  Greece,  105, 
177  ;  on  the  Greek  press,  113  ; 


INDEX 


419 


Byron's  illness,  124  ;  Byron's 
kind  treatment  of  Hataj^,  133  et 
scq. ;  on  Cariascachi's  treachery, 
161  ;  on  Byron's  unhappiness 
and  anxieties,  162  ;  attends 
Byron  in  his  last  illness  and 
death,  167  et  scq.,  190,  193  d 
se?.,  403  et  scq.;  on  Mavrocor- 
dato,  181 

Missolonghi :  blockade  of,  66, 96 ; 
Turks  retire  from,  70 ;  Greek 
squadron  at,  81  ;  description 
of,  87  ;  Byron's  arrival  and  life 
at,  88,  99  ;  release  of  Turkish 
prisoners,  133  ;  Turkish  brig- 
of-war  runs  ashore  off,  139  ; 
effect  of  Byron's  death,  175, 
183  ct  scq. 

Mitford,  William,  History  of 
Greece,  100 

Monthly  Literary  Recreations, 
loi  n. 

Montlily  Review,  Byron's  reviews 
in,  100,  loi  n. 

Moore,  Thomas :  letters  from 
Shelley  and  Byron,  13,  14,  266  ; 
and  Byron,  36  ;  on  the  Thyrza 
poems,  229  ;  Byron's  love  for 
Mary  Chaworth,  238,  246,  266, 
279 ;  criticism  on  his  Life  of 
Byron,  365 

Moore,  Sir  John,  ode  on  the 
death  of,  58 

Muir,  Dr.,  principal  medical 
officer  at  Cephalonia,  82 

Muir,  General  Skey,  82 

Murray,  John,  Byron's  publisher  : 
Byron's  letters  to,  30, 31 ;  Childe 
Harold,  50  ;  asks  for  Byron 
to  be  buried  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  203  ;  and  Mrs.  Leigh, 
269  ;  Byron's  copyrights,  281  ; 
Epistle  to  Augusta,  324 

Musters,  John,  husband  of  Mary 
Chaworth  :  the  ring  incident 
and  engagement,  224,  225  ; 
separation  from  his  wife,  245  ; 
behaviour  to  his  wife,  246 ; 
reconciliation,  251  ;  cuts  down 
the  peculiar  diadem  of  trees,  289 

Napier,  Colonel,  British  Resi- 
dent Governor  of  Argostoli, 
48,  80 


Newstead  Abbey  :  sale  of,  99 ; 
Byron's  visits,  226,  227 

Noel,  Lady,  Byron's  mother-in- 
law  :  Byron  inherits  the  Noel 
property  on  her  death,  10 ; 
her  bequest  of  BjTon's  por- 
trait, 43  n. ;  advice  as  to  her 
daughter's  separation  from 
Byron,  338  ;  and  Mrs.  Leigh, 
362 

Noel,  Sir  Ralph,  writes  to  Byron 
requiring  a  separation,  339 

O'Doherty,  Ensign,  Byron's 
opinion  of  his  poetry,  100 

Odysseus,  Greek  insurgent  leader  : 
his  opposition  to  Mavrocordato, 
153  ;  and  Trelawny,  179,  180 

Osborne,  Lord  Sidney,  and  Sir 
Thomas  Maitland,  115  ;  goes 
to  Missolonghi,  198  ;  eulogy  of 
Byron's  conduct  in  Greece, 
201 

Parry,  Major  :  his  arrival  at  Mis- 
solonghi, 91,  92 ;  his  peculi- 
arities, 92  et  seq.  ;  practical  joke 
on,  95  ;  on  Byron's  intentions 
in  Greece,  97,  98  ;  on  tlie  re- 
lationship between  Mavrocor- 
dato and  Byron,  116  ;  on 
Byron's  mode  of  reproof,  117  ; 
account  of  Byron's  illness,  121  ; 
anecdote  of  Jerry  Bentliaiu's 
Cruise,  126;  Turkish  brig-of- 
war  ashore,  139 ;  artillery  at 
Missolonghi,  144  ;  on  Byron's 
mode  of  life,  145  ;  on  Byron's 
power  in  Greece,  151,  152  ; 
Byron's  last  illness  and  death, 
164  et  seq.,  196  ;  his  opinion  of 
Byron,  175 

Phillips,  Thomas,  his  portrait  of 
Byron,  9 

Pigot,  Elizabeth,  Byron's  letters 
to,  222,  223 

Pisa  :  Shelley's  description  of,  3  ; 
Byron's  life  at,  20 

Po,  Stanzas  to  the,  what  they  re- 
veal, 298  ct  scq.,  370 

Pope,  Alexander,  Homer,  51 

Prothero,  Rowland  E.  :  Letters 
and  journals  of  Lord  Byron, 
70  n.,  125,  256  n.,  260  n.,  383 

27—2 


420 


INDEX 


Quarterly  Review,  the,  50,  100 

Recollections  of  a  Long  Life.     See 

Broughton,  Lord 
Roberts,  Captain,  describes   the 

wreck  of  The  Bolivar,  33 
Robertson,  Rev.  Frederick,  Lady 

Byron's  spiritual  adviser,  324 
Robinson,  Crabti,  77 
Romilly,  Sir  Samuel,  consulted  by 

Lady  Byron,  338 

Salona,  Congress  at,  152,  153 

Sanders,  Mr.  George,  painter,  his 
portrait  of  Byron,  9 

Sardanapalus,  a  tragedy,  loi 

Sass,  Lieutenant,  death  of,  141 

Scliilitz}',  a  Greek,  accompanies 
Byron  to  Greece,  47 

Scott,  Captain,  commands  the 
Hercules,  in  which  Byron 
travels  to  Greece,  47 

Scott,  Dr.,  surgeon,  and  Byron, 
54,58 

Scott,  Sir  Walter :  B3'ron's  opinion 
of,  35,  51-  55,  79  ;  hi^  denial  of 
the  authorship  of  the  Wuvcrlcy 
Novels,  53 

Segati,  Marianna,  Byron's  haison 
with,  371 

Shakespeare,  William,  B3Ton's 
opinion  of,  loi 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe  :  describes 
Pisa,  3  ;  and  Byron,  11  ct  seq.  ; 
fracas  at  Pisa,  20,  21  ;  and 
Allegra,  22 ;  leaves  Pisa  for 
Lerici,  26 ;  and  Leigh  Hunt, 
26  et  seq. ;  his  death,  30 ;  Byron's 
opinion  of,  30,  35  ;  his  legacy 
to  Byron,  32 

Shelley,  Life  and  Letters  of  Mary 
Wollstonecraft,  by  Mrs.  Julian 
Marshall,  178 

Stanhope,  Col.  the  Hon.  Leices- 
ter :  arrives  in  Cephalonia  to 
co-operate  with  Byron,  68  ; 
on  Byron's  character,  78,  174  ; 
begs  Byron  to  come  to  Misso- 
longhi,  81  ;  on  Byron's  conduct 
in  Greece,  91,  107  ;  interviews 
and  misunderstandings  with 
Byron,  108  et  seq. ;  his  conduct 
in  Greece,  119,  153;  accom- 
panies Byron's  body  to   Eng- 


land, 199,  202  ;  Greece  in  182J 
and  1824,  and  Sketch  of  Byron, 
201 ;  character  sketch  of  Byron, 
205  et  seq. 

Stanhope,  Earl,  historian,  opinion 
of  Mrs.  Leigh,  318 

Stephen,  Sir  Leslie,  and  Mrs. 
Leigh's  letters,  357 

Stowe.     See  Beecher  Stowe 

Stravolemo,  Dr.,  physician,  and 
Dr.  Bruno,  79 

Suliotes  :  Byron  takes  500  into 
his  pay,  91  ;  false  alarm,  123  ; 
serious  fracas,  140  ;  their  dis- 
missal, 142 

Swift,  William,  bootmaker  at 
Southwell,  his  evidence  of 
Byron's  lameness,  8 

Taaffe,  Mr.,  fracas  at  Pisa,  20, 
21 

Thomas,  Dr.,  invited  to  attend 
Byron  in  his  last  illness,  168, 
193  et  seq. 

Thorwaldsen,  his  marble  bust  of 
Byron,  10 

Thyrza  poems,  what  they  reveal, 
221,  232,  235 

Tita,  Giovanni  Battista  Falcieri, 
B3a-on's  faithful  servant,  97, 
166,  169  et  seq. 

Toole,  Mr.,  receives  Byron  at 
Santa  Eufemia,  60 

Trelawny,  Edward  John  :  arrives 
at  Pisa,  4  ;  describes  Byron  and 
his  peculiarities,  5,  17,  18  ;  on 
Leigh  Hunt  and  Byron,  28  ; 
effect  of  Shelley's  death,  32  ; 
lays  up  The  Bolivar,  32  ;  travels 
with  Byron  to  Greece,  47,  48  ; 
and  Byron's  seizure,  62  ;  mis- 
taken views  of  Byron's  motives, 
64,  65  ;  unhealthiness  of  Mis- 
solonghi,  87 ;  his  opinion  of 
Byron,  178  et  seq.  ;  and  Mavro- 
cordato,  179 ;  on  Byron's  de- 
foi^mit}',  191,  192 

Tricoupi,  Spiridion,  pronounces 
funeral  oration  over  Byron,  185 

Vaga,  Dr.  Lucca,  Greek  physician, 
attends  Byron  in  his  last  illness, 
169,  408 

Vathi,  Byron  at,  58 


INDEX 


421 


Villi ers,  Hon.  Mrs.,  and  Mrs. 
Leigh,  357,  362,  367;  Lady 
Byron  confides  the  secret  to, 

381,  394 
Vivian,  Charles,  his  death,  30 
Volpiotti,  Constantine,  spy  under 

Byron's  roof,  162 

Watson's  Philip  11. ,  102 
Webster,  Lady  Frances  Wedder- 
burn,    and    Byron,    240,    241, 

259 
Wentworth,  Lord,  Byron  inherits 

his  property,  10 
West,  William    Edward,  Amer- 
ican   painter,   his   portrait    of 
Byron,  9 
Wildman,  Colonel  Thomas,  44 
Wildman,  Mrs.,  owner  of  Byron's 
boot-trees  and  the  bootmaker's 


statement  as  to  Byron's  de- 
formity, 7,  8 

Williams,  Edward,  and  Leijjh 
Hunt,  29 ;  on  Byron's  treat- 
ment of  Mrs.  Hunt,  29  ;  his 
death,  30 

Wilmot,  Robert  John,  sij^ns  Lady 
Byron's  statement,  355,  357, 359 

Wilson,  John,  60 

Wilson,  General  Sir  Robert, 
known  as  '  Jaffa  Wilson,'  no 

Wordswortli,  William,  60  ;  Byron 
reviews  his  poems,  loi  n. 

York,  Duke  of,  and  Sir   Walter 

Scott,  53 
Young,   Charles,  actor,    Byron's 

opinion  of,  61 

Zante,  Byron  at,  83,  198 


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